


The De-Aged Doctor and the Half-Blood Prince

by Whovian101



Series: The De-Aged Doctor [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-07-10 04:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whovian101/pseuds/Whovian101
Summary: The Doctor and Jack get hit with a de-aging gun, so they wait at Hogwarts until they can be re-aged





	1. Prologue

_The Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness sprinted across the room, trying to escape the gun blast. The Doctor wrenched the blue TARDIS door open, he and Jack diving in, but they were still caught in the blast. The Doctor rushed to his lab as he began mixing some complicated and ever changing chemical substance that Jack couldn’t understand at all. Jack felt the Doctor inject something into him when he wasn’t looking, than visibly injected himself with the same substance. “Doc?” Jack shouted over the ringing in his ears, he felt the room tip, and he dropped to the floor, and the last thing he saw was the Doctor, but not the Doctor as he was, the Doctor as Jack had first seen him, with his big ears and Northern accent, he called,_

_“Just relax Jack.” and the world went silent._


	2. Eleven Years Old

When Jack woke up, he laying on his back and was on the floor atop a bunch of familiar fabric. He saw a small face look down at him, it was a boy, just about eleven years old, with pale blue-green eyes and soft-looking brown hair, “You alright Jack?” His high pitched voice asked kindly,

“What?” Jack didn’t know this boy. The boy had seemed to expect this, and handed him a silver-rimmed mirror, and Jack looked inside it. He stared at the small, brown haired, eleven year-old boy who was looking back at him,

“It was a de-ageing gun they hit us with.” The boy sighed, as if given a minor inconvenience, not been aged down a few hundred years, Jack almost fell down the ramp,

“Doctor!” Jack came to the realization of whom the boy was,

“What?” The boy turned,

“Nothing- Just- wow.” The Doctor laughed, but it came out as more of a giggle, which made it hard to take him seriously.

“The TARDIS isn’t happy with all this, too many paradoxes, she’s taking us somewhere to camouflage us in.” The Doctor informed him, and Jack just nodded, still in shock.

“What are we going to do?” Jack asked, clearly concerned,

“I injected you with a substance, but I it was diluted. I needed to do it quickly, but it was rushed. For the meantime, I can’t fly the TARDIS, which is made for six people, with this small child body.” The Doctor said, sounding frustrated for the first time since this began,

“So, where are we?” Jack asked when the shaking in the TARDIS stopped, indicating that the TARDIS had landed them. The Doctor bounded to the door and pulled it open, then got slapped in the face with two letters. He closed the door and handed one to Jack, the envelope read:

  
_Mr. J. Harkness_

_Control Room_

_TARDIS_

 

Jack opened it to find a long letter that read;

 

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** _

_**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore** _

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Harkness,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term Begins on 1 September. We await your owl.._

_Yours sincerely,_

_**Minerva McGonagall** _

_**Deputy Headmistress** _

 

Jack gaped at the Doctor as he calmly read his letter, then Jack looked at the supply list it came with;

 

_**First-year students will require:** _

_**Uniform:** _

_Three sets of plain work robes (Black)_

_One plain pointed hat for day wear (Black)_

_One Pair of protective gloves (Dragonhide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (Black, silver fastenings)_

_**Please note that all student’s clothes should carry name-tags at all times.** _

_**Books:** _

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_**Other Equipment:** _

_1 Wand_

_1 Caldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set of glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set of brass scales_

_Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat, or a Toad._

_**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS** _

 

The Doctor laughed, then turned to Jack, grinned, then pulled a lever on the TARDIS and a fountain of foreign coins fell into a pouch he held under it. “So, are we doing this then?” Jack asked as the Doctor handed him his own pouch of gold coins, the Doctor laughed,

“I’ll send the TARDIS to the Hogwarts grounds so she’ll be there if we need her.” The TARDIS’ hum changed a little, and Jack heard the Doctor murmuring, “No, come on, please. Stop it. We both know that’s a bad idea. But what if-, yes, I know. But after all-, I know but-, fine.” He turned back to Jack, “The TARDIS insists that she’s going to wait three days once we get to school to land. She wants us to ‘settle in’.” The Doctor rolled his eyes,

“Why are we getting settled in?” Jack asked, “Aren’t we just going to go, make the formula for re-aging, then leave?”

“It’s not as simple as that.” The Doctor sighed, “I did inject the formula to re-age us, but because it was so diluted, it’s going to take a time. Just about a school year.” Jack nodded, disappointed.

“Plus, we will need to fit in. Imagine if anyone figured out who we were.”

“Ianto would have a laughing fit.” Jack murmured, suddenly missing the man fiercely,

“Not to mention that we’d be studied and examined and probably experimented on.” The Doctor rolled his eyes, then said, “Grab a trunk of stuff and meet me back here. You’ll need different clothing,” He said, and Jack nodded, ready to get out of these now enormous clothes, “There’s some in the wardrobe that should fit, and anything sentimental you should leave in the TARDIS, she’ll keep it safe.” The Doctor affectionately patted the TARDIS. Jack nodded and the two boys sprinted off.

Probably an hour later, Jack and The Doctor met in the console room, each with a trunk with a shimmering gold-plated name on there, Jack’s had _Jack Harkness_ , and the Doctor had his false name, _John Smith_ on his. They looked at each other, ready to go.

“Alright, alright. I know. I’ll come see you in a few days when you materialize. I know.” The Doctor was stroking the TARDIS as they left, “Allons-y Jack.” He said. Jack rolled his eyes. The Doctor watched sadly as the TARDIS dematerialized, then started grumbling in a language that Jack didn’t understand, but assumed was Gallifreyan,

“You do know I can’t understand you, right?” Jack said,

“That’s what I was saying!” The Doctor said dramatically, “Now that the  is a few days ahead of us, I have to speak English!” Jack rolled his eyes,

“Oh the agony.” He said sarcastically, The Doctor grinned and lead him into a small pub at the corner called ‘The Leaky Cauldron” that he assumed had a perception filter so it would be disguised, they walked in,

“We’d like a bedroom until September 1st.” The Doctor announced to the man at the desk, the man nodded,

“Are your parents here or are you alone?”

“We’re alone.” The Doctor answered, relieved that being alone didn’t seem unusual. The man had them lead to a bedroom, and the Doctor and Jack decided to leave their trunks and head to Diagon Alley.


	3. Diagon Alley

Normally you couldn’t get into the alley without wand, but the Doctor used his Sonic Screwdriver to redistribute the bricks. A large doorway opened in front of them, and they rushed out into the alley. It was magnificent, there were so many stores, so much to do. They decided a wand took first priority, then they’d get their robes, than their other items, but books would have to wait for last because they both knew the Doctor would spend the longest in the book store. They headed for the wand shop, but Jack suddenly stopped,

“Jack?” The Doctor looked at his immortal friend,

“Doctor, we’re not wizards.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Jack.” The Doctor rolled his eyes, “Here, take this.” The Doctor handed Jack a chemical substance. Raising an eyebrow, he drank it in one gulp.

“Okay, so what was that?” Jack asked,

“All wizards are, are normal humans with a small psychic field. By the 51st century, where you’re from, they’ve all mated with muggles and their psychic field has been dramatically reduced.”

“And you already have the psychic field, because you’re a Time Lord, so you don’t need any elixir.” Jack concluded,

“Yep, be it, mine is much more sensitive than theirs, they only have a tiny milligram of what I’ve got, but that’s basically it. And what I gave you just increased your sensitivity a bit.” Jack nodded, and they continued on their way to the wand shop. Jack was incredibly excited, feeling like the excited little kid he looked like. They walked into the shop, and the Doctor and Jack walked up to the counter. Jack went first, He was handed a wand, and Ollivander said,

“Oakwood, Phoenix core, 10 inches,” the moment it touched Jack’s hands it sent a jet and broke a lamp, “No, no, no, no!” He handed him another, then whisked it away, it only took a few tries before Jack was smiling as his new wand. It was Firwood with a Dragon heartstring core and was 12½ inches long. Jack dropped the coins he owed into Mr. Ollivander’s hands, then grabbed the Doctor’s small hand and pushed him in front of the man.

The Doctor went through a lot more wands then Jack did. It was made especially difficult because the Doctor was ambidextrous, meaning he had twice as many options. Finally, a wand of Maplewood, with Phoenix core, and was 10 inches. The Doctor seemed content with this and smiled, at Ollivander, “What does it represent?” Ollivander seemed shocked that such a little boy was asking this,

“Well, Maplewood tends to choose wizards who are by nature travellers and explorers. They prefer an ambitious wizards who like fresh challenges and regular changes of scene. It is a beautiful and desirable wood because of its reputation as the wand of high achievers.” The Doctor nodded,

“What about the Phoenix core?” Mr. Ollivander seemed quite pleased with the Doctor’s curiosity and desire to learn,

“The Phoenix core is the rarest core. They are capable of the greatest range of magic. They show the most initiative qualities  and sometimes act on their own accord. It is hard to win their allegiance.” The Doctor nodded, understanding,

“And the length, does that have something to do with height?” Mr. Ollivander seemed overjoyed,

“It does!” He exclaimed, “Judging by your wand size, you will most likely be 5’8. The Doctor nodded, knowing that was the height of his first body when it was fully grown,

“And what about Jack’s wand?” He asked, Jack was in his chair twirling his wand of boredom, just wanting to go explore more of Diagon Alley.

“He has Firwood, which is known as ‘the survivor’s wand’ because it comes from the most resilient of trees.” The Doctor almost laughed, he looked at Jack with an amused look, he just rolled his eyes, of course he got the one that represented immortality. “And his core was Dragon heartstring, which tend to produce the wands with the most power and are capable of the most flamboyant spells. They tend to learn quickly, but it tends to be the easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, so be careful.” Mr. Ollivander warned darkly, “It also seems the most prone to accidents and is somewhat temperamental.” The Doctor nodded, finally noticing Jack’s impatience,

“I think my friend and I are going to go, thank you.”

“Of course.” Mr. Ollivander, in a seemingly more happy mood then he had been when they came in.

“That took forever.” Jack grumbled,

“Sorry.” The Doctor murmured sarcastically, “I was interested.”

“I know.” Jack said apologetically, “Maybe it’s the kid hormones. The Doctor nodded,

“It might be. I don’t actually know how this will affect us hormonally.”

“That’s new, you not knowing something.” Jack grinned,

“Well, believe it or not, this has never actually happened to me before.” The Doctor said,

They walked into the robe shop to get fitted. They were fitted and paid for their new robes, then headed to various shops, picking up their cauldrons, dragon hide gloves, crystal phials, telescopes, and brass scales.

After a while, the Doctor and Jack of them found themselves in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, a joke shop. It was packed with customers and there were loads of brilliant products. Nosebleed Nougat, trink wands, Self-inking, Spell Checking, and Smart-Answer quills. The Doctor stood next to a frizzy-haired, sixteen year old girl, a dark, messy-haired sixteen year old boy with round glasses, and a ginger boy who were all staring at a display labeled: PATENTED DAYDREAM CHARMS. The frizzy-haired girl read aloud to the other boys, “‘One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly-realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.’ You know, that really is extraordinary magic.”

“For that, Hermione,” said a voice behind them, “you can have one for free.” A beaming eighteen year old ginger boy stood before them, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair.

“How are you, Harry?” He asked, shaking hands with the boy with the round glasses, “And what’s happened to your eye, Hermione?”

“Your punching telescope,” she said ruefully.

“Oh blimey, I forgot about those,” He said. “Here –” He pulled a tube out of his pocket and handed it to her; she unscrewed it gingerly to reveal a thick yellow paste. “Just dab it on, that bruise’ll be gone within the hour. We had to find a decent bruise remover. We’re testing most of our products on ourselves.” Hermione looked nervous.

“It is _safe_ , isn’t it?” she asked,

“‘Course it is,” The twin said bracingly. “Come on, Harry, I’ll give you a tour.” The Doctor grinned at Jack, and the two of them followed Harry and the ginger boy towards the back of the shop, where they saw a stand of card and rope tricks. “Muggle magic tricks!” The ginger boy said happily, pointing them out. “For freaks like Dad, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It’s not a big earner, but we do fairly steady business, they’re great novelties. …Oh, here’s George…” A boy who looked identical to their guide shook Harry’s hand energetically.

“Giving him the tour, Fred?” George asked, “Come through the back, Harry, that’s where we’re making the real money – _pocket anything, you, and you’ll pay in more than Galleons!_ ” He added warningly to a small boy who hastily whipped his hand out of the tub labeled EDIBLE DARK MARKS – THEY’LL MAKE ANYONE SICK!

George pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle tricks and the Doctor saw a darker, less crowded room. The packaging on the products lining these shelves was more subdued. “We’ve just developed this more serious line,” said Fred. “Funny how it happened…”

“You wouldn’t believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can’t do a decent Shield Charm,” said George. “‘Course, they didn’t have you teaching them, Harry.”

“That’s right… Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its support staff! And we’re still getting massive orders!”

“So we’ve expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves…”

“…I mean, they wouldn’t help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes…”

“And then we thought we’d get into the whole area of Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it’s such a money spinner,” continued George enthusiastically. “This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we’re importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape.

“And our Decoy Detonators are just walking off the shelves, look,” said Fred, pointing at a number of weird-looking black horn-type objects that were indeed attempting to scurry out of sight. “You just drop one surreptitiously and it’ll run off and make a nice loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion if you need one.”

“Brilliant.” The Doctor grinned, Fred, George, and Harry spun around to face the Doctor and Jack,

“Thanks,” Fred said with a lopsided grin, “And you are,”

“I’m the Doctor.”

“Cap’n Jack Harkness.” Jack said with a wink,

“I’m Fred,” Fred said,

“And I’m George.”

“I’m Harry.” Harry said awkwardly.

“Are you two first years?” Fred asked,

“Yes.” The Doctor said, examining the Darkness powder, “You know, you could extend the length it detonates for if you added polyethylene.” George furrowed his eyebrows,

“That’s, that’s genius.” Then, a young witch with short blonde hair poked her head around the curtain.

“There’s a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley,” she said.

“Right you are, Verity, I’m coming,” said George promptly. “Harry, Doctor, Jack, take whatever you like, and just remember to tell people where they got it, if they ask.” George swept off through the curtain to help with the customers, and Fred led Harry, Jack, and the Doctor back to the main part of the shop to find Hermione and a ginger girl still pouring over the Patented Daydream Charms.

“Haven’t you girls found our special WonderWitch products yet?” asked Fred. “Follow me, ladies…”

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and the ginger girl both hung back, looking wary. “There you go,” Said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” The girl raised an eye skeptically. “Do they work?” she asked.

“Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question –”

“– and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, appearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve –”

“Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” she said calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf. “What’s this?”

“Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher,” said Fred. “Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don’t change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?”

“Yes, I am,” the girl said. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?” The Doctor turned away and began to examine the items on the shelf.

 

A few minutes later, the Doctor heard Harry say, “Wonder where his mummy is?”

“Given her the slip by the looks of it,” said the ginger boy,

“Why, though?” said Hermione.

“Get under here, quick,” said Harry, pulling out an invisibility cloak. The Doctor tossed a ring to Jack,

“Perception filter, come on.” The Doctor and Jack followed the pale blonde boy Harry, the ginger boy, and Hermione were following. After following him into an alley called Knockturn Alley.

“Shh! Look! He’s in there!” Hermione’s voice sounded, clearly peering into the windows of a shop called Borgin and Burkes.

“…you know how to fix it?” the pale boy was saying,

“Possibly,” said the owner, presumably Borgin, in a tone that suggested he was unwilling to commit himself. “I’ll need to see it, though. Why don’t you bring it into the shop?”  
“I can’t,” the boy said, “It’s got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it.” Borgin licked his lips nervously.

“Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn’t guarantee anything.”

“No?” said the boy, “Perhaps this will make you more confident.” He moved closer to Borgin and was blocked from view from the cabinet. All they could see was Borgin, looking very frightened. “Tell anyone,” said the boy, “and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He’s a family friend. He’ll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you’re giving the problem your full attention.”

“There will be no need for –”

“I’ll decide that,” said the boy, “Well, I’d better be off. And don’t forget to keep _that_ one safe, I’ll need it.”

“Perhaps you’d like to take it now?”

“No, of course I wouldn’t, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don’t sell it.”

“Of course not… sir.” Borgin made a deep bow,

“Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?”

“Naturally, naturally,” murmured Borgin, bowing again. The next moment, the bell over the door tinkled loudly as the boy stalked out of the shop looking very pleased with himself.   
“What was that about?” The Doctor asked Harry, the ginger boy, and Hermione, making a quick and accurate educated guess as to where they were. Hermione gasped,

“Who are you?”

“That’s the Doctor.” Harry said, “I met him earlier in the joke shop.”

“What are you doing here?” the ginger boy asked,

“Oh, you know, I’m usually around when there’s trouble.”

“Come on, let’s get back to the joke shop.” The ginger boy said, and the five of them returned to the shop.

 

It was getting late by the time the Doctor and Jack finished shopping, so they decided to finish shopping the next morning, and returned to the Leaky Cauldron and the Doctor passed out on the bed. Jack laid down on the other side of the bed.

When Jack saw the Doctor the next morning, they went down to the bookstore, and found the required textbooks, and more. The Doctor found an incredible amount of books, with more advanced subjects than Jack could fathom. They returned to their bedroom that night, prepared for the train ride to school tomorrow. By ten at night, Jack said he was going to bed, he looked at the Doctor who was reading all the books he’d gotten. “I’m going to bed. You coming?” he asked,

“No.” The Doctor responded, I may be a kid, but I’m still a Time Lord. I only need a few hours of sleep.” Jack shrugged,

“Whatever you want.” He then smiled, “Save some books for school.” He laughed at the Time Lord, the Doctor grinned,

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


	4. The Hogwarts Express

The next morning came and Jack and the Doctor pulled their trunks to Kings Cross Station. The Doctor strode confidently to the wall between platforms 9 and 10. “Allons-y!” He sprinted into the wall. Jack watched, stunned, as the Doctor’s small figure disappeared. He began to walk, then jog, then he was running, at a wall he could tell was solid. He shut his eyes. He peaked them open when the impact with the wall that he had been expecting didn’t happen. He gazed around, he was on a new platform, with a big train labeled; HOGWARTS EXPRESS sat. His eyes rested on a bemused Doctor. “Are you going to stand there all day?” The Doctor asked, pulling Jack out of the way as another couple people ran through the barrier. They stepped onto the train only to find Harry, Hermione, and the sixteen year old ginger boy from before.

“We can’t, Harry,” Hermione was saying, “Ron and I’ve got to go to the prefects’ carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” said Harry.

“Hello, Harry.” The Doctor grinned, Harry spun around.

“Doctor, Jack?”

“At your service.” Jack said with a wink, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs,

“Harry, who’s that?” Another sixteen year old boy said, approaching,

“Hey Neville,” Harry said,

“Hey,” Neville said uncomfortably, “Er – I’m Neville.”

“Cap’n Jack Harkness.” Jack winked, earning another sharp elbow,

“I’m the Doctor.” Then, a blonde sixteen year old girl walked over,

“Hey, Harry, Neville,”

“Hey Luna,” Harry said, “Come on, let’s find a compartment.” The Doctor, Jack, Harry, Neville, and Luna all sat together in a compartment. The Doctor stuck his nose back into his Transfiguration Textbook; _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_.

“That’s a seventh year book.” Luna said calmly, yet curiosity, causing Harry to turn to the Doctor,

“Very observant of you.” The Doctor replied, he was silent for a moment, then jumped up, “Jack! I’ve figured it out!”

“What?” Jack looked curiously at the Doctor,

“Transfiguration!” He grinned, “At first I thought is was impossible, because it breaks the law of conservation of mass, but actually it’s taking the quantum–”

“English.” Jack reminded him,

“It hacks reality.” The Doctor smiled, “It’s not turning something into something else , it’s about imagining the one thing has always been the other thing. It’s literally going into the code of the universe and rewriting it according to your imagination!” Jack shrugged and turned to Harry, Neville, and Luna,

“I swear I only understand have the stuff he says.”

“He should meet Hermione.” Neville pointed out to Harry, “They’d have a good time.” The Doctor placed down the now-useless book. “Do you have any family who’s been to Hogwarts before?” Neville asked,

“Nope.” The Doctor said, popping the ‘p’. Jack shook his head,

“So you’re Muggle-born?” Luna asked,

“Er – Jack is. I’m not.”

“Oh, what are you then?”  
“Pure-blood I would expect.”

“Oh, what wizarding school did your parents go to.”

“Oh, I dunno.” The Doctor shrugged, unsure how to respond.

“Can’t you ask them?” Harry asked,

“Nope.” The Doctor gave a sad smile,

“Are you an orphan?” Harry asked,

“Yes I am. Jack is too.” Jack smiled,

“I am as well.” Harry said, “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“A war invaded my homeland.” Jack admitted, Harry, Neville, Luna and Jack turned to the Doctor,

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about me, what about your families?” The Doctor asked, “What happened to your parents?”

“My parents were killed by Lord Voldemort.” Harry said,

“Oh, Harry Potter then, I expect.”

“Yeah.”

“And what about you, Luna?”

“My mum died when I was young, so I live with my father.”

“I live with my gran.” Neville said, clearly not planning to reveal anything more.

The train passed through stretches of chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Hermione and the ginger boy entered the compartment. The moment they walked in, they spotted the Doctor and Jack. “You’re those first years from Diagon Alley!” Hermione exclaimed. Sitting down, she extended a hand, “I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Captain Jack Harkness.” Jack winked, the Doctor rolled his eyes,

“I’m the Doctor.”

“‘An I’m Ron.” Ron said as he sat down next to Harry,

“Doctor?” Hermione said curiously, “There’s no way you’re a doctor.”

“I’m not _a_ doctor, I’m _the_ Doctor.” The Doctor said. Hermione just shrugged it off, clearly she had seen stranger things,

“Malfoy’s not on prefect duty.” Ron said, breaking the silence, Harry straightened up in his seat, “He’s just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed.”

“What did he do when he saw you?” Harry asked,

“The usual,” said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. “Not like him, though, is it? Well – _that_ is” – He did the gesture again – “but why isn’t he out there bullying first years?”

“Dunno,” said Harry. Then, the compartment door slid open again, and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

“I’m supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter,” she faltered, as her eyes met those of the famous Harry Potter. She was holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Harry and Neville took the scrolls addressed to each of them as the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.

“What is it?” Ron demanded, as Harry unrolled his. The Doctor looked over at it.

“It’s an invitation,” said Harry.

 

_Harry,_

_I would be so delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

_Sincerely,_

**_Professor H. E. F. Slughorn_ **

 

“Who’s Professor Slughorn?” asked Neville, looking perplexedly at his own invitation.

“New teacher,” said Harry. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to go, won’t we.”

“Yes, I suppose we will.” The Doctor said standing up,

“Uh, Doctor, you don’t have an invitation.” Hermione said,

“As a matter of fact, I believe both Jack and I do.” The Doctor pulled out his psychic paper. Jack grinned, “Allons-y!”

When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were not Professor Slughorn’s only invitees. “Harry, m’boy!” said Professor Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of Harry. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. “Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!” Neville nodded, looking scared, “And…” Professor Slughorn rested his eyes on the Doctor and Jack, “…And who are you?”

“I’m John Smith,” The Doctor lied, “And this is Jack Harkness, you invited us.” The Doctor held out his psychic paper,

“Oh, yes, Mr. Smith, Mr. Harkness, of course, how silly of me.” The Doctor and Jack sat down at the table and Professor Slughorn decided to start, gesturing for everyone else to sit as well. “Well now, this is most pleasant,” He said cozily. “A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin, I’ve packed my own lunch; the trolly, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man’s digestive system isn’t quite up to such things… Pheasant, Belby?” The boy who must have been Belby started and accepted what looked half a cold pheasant. “I was just telling his Uncle Damocles,” Professor Slughorn began talking to Harry.

The meeting was quite domestic, so the Doctor was quite relieved when it was over. The train pulled to a stop, and they all grabbed their belongings.

  


A large man, presumably a half giant, was calling out, “Firs’ years! Firs’ years! This way!” The Doctor and Jack walked up to him, joining the rest of the gathering first years. They took some large boats across the lake.

The Doctor was up against the side of the boat, looking in at the water at the luminescent creatures underneath, when a girl in their boat asked, “What house do you think you’ll be in?”

“Ravenclaw?” The Doctor said, knowing it was more wishful thinking,

“You’re totally going to be a Gryffindor and you know it.” Jack said, “I’ll probably be a Slytherin.” The Doctor shrugged,

“What do you think you’ll be in?” He asked the girl,

“My whole family has been Gryffindor, so I probably will be too, so we probably won’t be able to hang out.” She addressed Jack, “But we can.” She smiled at the Doctor,

“Why not Jack?” The Doctor asked,

“We don’t mingle with Slytherins.” She laughed,

“That’s a shame.” He said. The girl smiled until the Doctor said, “I thought you’d be a good friend.” Her face fell,

“What?” She asked, confused. The Doctor didn’t respond to her and was silent the rest of the ride.


	5. The Sorting

All the first years were taken up a staircase and stood in front of a large door. “This is Professor McGonagall.” The man informed them,

“Thank you, Rubius. I will take them from here.” A woman smiled, she was an older woman, probably sixty or seventy, with long emerald green robes, and a tall black pointed hat. “Welcome to Hogwarts.” She said, “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common-room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” She gave a smile, then said, “I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.” There was a lot of whispering, and all of a sudden, a couple people screamed as twenty pearly-white transparent ghosts flew in.

“Evolution of the gelth.” The Doctor whispered to Jack who nodded,

“New students!” A large monk-like ghost wearing a ruff and tights exclaimed, “I’m the Fat Friar! I hope to see you in Hufflepuff!”

“Move along now! The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.” Professor McGonagall returned and the ghosts dispersed. “Now form a line and follow me.” She said she pulled open the large door and stepped into the Great Hall. The room was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. The ceiling was to high to make out, presumably enchanted to reflect the sky. Most kids were in awe, but the Doctor and Jack looked at each other, and laughed, having seen much more than these kids. They followed Professor McGonagall across the floor, looking around at all of the students. They stood in a line as Professor McGonagall stepped forwards with large scroll of parchment. Next to her on a stool was a brown, patched, frayed, old, hat. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and said, “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.” She adjusted her scroll,

“Adams, Euan.” A terrified-looking boy stumbled forward and put the hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted,

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Atkin, René.” A short boy slowly approached the hat, sat on the bench, and placed it on his head. The Hat seemed to think for a moment, then cried out,

“RAVENCLAW!” The Ravenclaw table erupted in applause. The boy smiled a nervous, but pleased smile, and made his way to the Ravenclaw table.

“Allen, Silver.” Another boy stepped up, head held high,

“RAVENCLAW!” He jumped up, handing the hat back to Professor McGonagall,

“Bev, Bailey.” A confident boy with a smug grin on his face stepped up,

“SLYTHERIN!” The Slytherin table erupted with applause,

“Back, Harper.”

HUFFLEPUFF!” The Hufflepuff table gave a polite applause,

“Bennett, Morgan.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Carney, Ashley.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

“Collins, Brynn.”

“SLYTHERIN!” The sorting continued like this, with Lesley Cooly, Eli Cooper, And Jesse Franks in Slytherin, and Kit Elliot being the first Gryffindor. Then,

“Harkness, Jack.” Jack walked up, giving the Doctor a wink, and placed the hat on his small head, it thought for a moment, then called,  
“SLYTHERIN!” Caden Hartman, Nichole Lambert, and Alex Reed all went to Gryffindor, Alexis Hayden, Taylor Lawrence, Brook Miller, and Reed Sellers went to Ravenclaw, Cory Hussain and Tanner Moreno went to Slytherin, and Blake Higgins and Fran Larsen went to Hufflepuff. Then,

“Smith, John.” The Doctor approached the hat, closing off his mind, making sure there was very little the hat could access, then sat down. He felt the hat enter, but it was unable to break down his barricades,

 _Oh! You’re new._ The hat was laughed, _I’ve never gotten someone like you before. You are powerful, so powerful that even I can not pierce your mental walls. From the little I can see, you have many qualities of a Ravenclaw. You are more clever than anyone I’ve ever seen. You are smarter than every professor here. Your wisdom is much beyond my own, but you tend to act impulsively when those you care about are in danger. I am lead to think that you would do well in Hufflepuff. You have worked very hard to get to where you are, you are loyal to the human race, and fairness is very important to you. But your hands are far from clean. You also share many attributes of a Slytherin, you are very much a leader, making your own rules as you go. Though you may show a slight bias for this House because of your friend’s placement. Lastly, you are much like a Gryffindor, for you have so much courage, bravery. Your determination is beyond measure than anyone I’ve ever seen. You may not like it, but you are a warrior. You fight, and you destroy. And yet, you trust my opinion. Very well. I will place you where I think you belong._

“GRYFFINDOR!” The Doctor looked around, they clearly had taken a long time to come to this conclusion, for everyone was murmuring. The Doctor placed the hat back on the stool and walked over to the Gryffindor table next to Harry and Hermione.

“Wow.” Ron whispered, “I don’t think anyone’s ever taken that long.

“Yeah, It must have been a half hour.” Harry agreed,

“27 minutes and 34 seconds.” The Doctor said, still grateful that even as a kid, his time sense was intact. The Professor cleared her throat and said the next name.

“Thompson, Avery.” Avery was put in Gryffindor, Mason Webb was placed in Ravenclaw, and Bre Wynn and Rose Zeller in Hufflepuff, and with that, the sorting ended. An older man, whom the Doctor assumed was Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, stood and smiling at the students, his arms in a welcoming position,

“Let the feast, begin.” Suddenly, the golden plates and platters filled with food.

Once dessert had come and gone, the plates were once more sparkling clean, as if never used. Professor Dumbledore once more stood up, “The very best of evenings to you!” he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

“What happened to his hand?” gasped Hermione, the Doctor looked at the Professor, and noticed that indeed, his hand was blackened and rather dead-looking. Whispers swept across the room; Professor Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said airily. “Now… to your new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…”

“His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer,” Harry whispered, “I thought he’d have cured it by now, though… or Madam Pomfrey would’ve done.”

“It looks cursed, do you know what happened?” The Doctor asked,

“No,” Harry said,

“That looks like old, ancient magic. And if it can’t be cured, I might think, but no…”

“What, what do you think it is?” Asked Hermione

“It almost looks like the work of a Horcrux, but no one’s made one since Herpo the Foul…”

“We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn” – Professor Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight – “is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master.”

“Potions?”

“ _Potions?_ ” The word echoed all over the Hall, people seeming unsure if they had heard it right,

“Potions?” said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare at Harry,

“What is it?” The Doctor asked,

“Professor Snape, meanwhile,” said Professor Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, “will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“No!” said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He did not seem to care; he was staring up at the staff table, incensed.

“What is it?” The Doctor repeated, but no one answered him. The man who must have been Professor Snape who was sitting on Professor Dumbledore’s right, did not stand up at the mention of his name, but merely raised his hand in lazy acknowledgement of the applause from the Slytherin table.

“Well, there’s one good thing,” Harry said savagely. “Snape’ll be gone by the end of the year.”

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked,

“The job’s jinxed,” Harry explained, “No one’s lasted more than a year… Quirrell actually died doing it… Personally, I’m going to keep my fingers crossed for another death.” The Doctor grimaced as Hermione said,

“Harry!” clearly she was shocked and reproachful,

“He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year,” said Ron reasonably, “That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-term. Moody didn’t.” Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Doctor weren’t the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news. Once the buzz quieted, the headmaster continued,

“Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength.” The silence seemed to taunton and strain as Professor Dumbledore spoke. “I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them – in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety.” Professor Dumbledore’s blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more. “But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!” With that, the room was filled with the scraping noise of benches being moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their designated dormitories.

“So Dumbledore’s hand,” Hermione said as they showed the Doctor to Gryffindor Tower, “What’s a Horcrux?”

“It’s an object in which a dark wizard or witch uses to hide a fragment of their soul. Herpo the Foul was the first and only wizard to do this, as with it, the witch or wizard would become immortal until the Horcrux is broken.”

“That’s it, Voldemort must have a Horcrux!” Harry said, “That’s how he came back at the Triwizard Tournament!”

“Well, if anyone can destroy a Horcrux, it’ll be Dumbledore.” Hermione said confidently.

“But how come Voldemort’s not after it now, then?” Harry said,

“I wish ye’d stop sayin’ tha’ name, Harry.” The half-giant appeared from behind them,

“Dumbledore uses his name,” said Harry stubbornly.

“Yeah, well, tha’s Dumbledore, innit?” said the man mysteriously.   
“Why were you so late, Hagrid?” Hermione asked the man,

“”I was with Grawp,” said Hagrid happily. “Los’ track o’ the time. He’s got a new home up in the mountains now, Dumbledore fixed it – nice big cave. He’s much happier than he was in the forest. We were havin’ a good chat.”

“Who’s Grawp?” The Doctor asked, causing Hagrid to jump,

“Er –” He looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione,

“Don’t worry about him.” Hermione said, waving him off,

“Well, er, Grawp is my half-brother.” The Doctor nodded and asked no more questions. They were now standing beside the oak front doors. “Anyway, I’ll see yeh tomorrow, firs’ lesson’s straight after lunch. Come early an’ yeh can say hello to Buck – I mean, Witherwings!” Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out of the front doors into the darkness. Harry and Ron exchanged a look,

“You’re not taking Care of Magical Creatures, are you?” Harry asked, Ron shook his head,

“And you’re not either, are you?” Harry shook his head too.


	6. The Teacher's Meeting

The next morning, the Doctor walked across the room to the Slytherin table where Jack was sitting. “Good morning.” He smiled,

“Good morning.” They began to talk before a tall sixth-year boy with slicked back blonde hair walked up to them and pointed a boney finger at the Doctor,

“You can’t talk to him.” He hissed at Jack,

“Why not?” The Doctor asked accusingly, not liking the House dynamic,

“You are a Gryffindor.” He drawled,

“Yes, you are very observant. And you are a Slytherin. You didn’t answer my question. Why not?” He watched the boy’s face twist, then pushed the Doctor. The Doctor stumbled and fell on the ground, but stood back up, and picked up the schedule he was given. Jack looked at his schedule to compare.

“We have potions together.” The Doctor smiled, “And Flying lessons, and Defence Against the Dark Arts.” They smiled, it could have been worse, and walked to their separate classes, the Doctor to Herbology, and Jack to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

 

The class began with Professor McGonagall talking about how she expected hard work and exceptional behavior from her Gryffindor class. She then instructed them to turn a match into a needle. The room filled with steady chatter as students tried and failed to turn their matches into needles, but the Doctor simply flicked his wand, murmuring the spell, and the match smoothly turned into a needle. He raised his hand,  
“Yes, Mr. Smith.” Professor McGonagall called, walking over to him,

“I’ve finished.”

“What?” Professor McGonagall hurried over, staring at the pointy needle, “Do it again.” She said unbelievingly, handing the Doctor another match. Once again, the Doctor flicked his wand and the match turned into a needle, leaving Professor McGonagall gawking, clearly this had never happened before.

“Mr. Smith, how would you like to be moved to a higher level class?”

Herbology was easy for the Doctor as well, as he had come across billions of types of plants in his years of travels. The Professor, Professor Sprout, didn’t seem interested in moving him to a higher class, claiming there was nothing better than experience. He then departed for his flying lesson. He and Jack stood across from each other, happy to see each other again. The teacher, Madam Hooch commanded each of them to stand by a broom. “Now stick your right hand over your broom and say ‘up!’” The Doctor did this, but nothing happened, he commanded it up again, nothing happened. Jack’s soon flew up into his hand, but the Doctor finally got frustrated and just picked it up. “Now, when I blow my whistle, kick off the ground hard.” They nodded, “One. Two. Three!” She blew the whistle, and Jack and the Doctor managed to get in the sky. The Doctor was not nearly as good as Jack. Jack flew circles around the irritable and struggling Doctor. Finally, they were told to come back to the ground, and the Doctor didn’t hesitate. He didn’t like the brooms. Or the endless teasing from Jack.

Charms was much more difficult. They were told to do the spell, _Wingardium Leviosa._ The Doctor did as he was told, swishing and flicking his wand, knowing what the spell was supposed to do, but the feather in front of him merely wobbled. Professor Flitwick approached him, seeing the progress he was making, “Relax you hand.” He suggested,

“What?” The Doctor looked up at the man,

“Your wand,” He said, “You’re gripping it very tightly.” The Doctor looked at his hand, he indeed was gripping it extremely tightly,

“Sorry. Habit.” He mumbled, releasing his grip on the wand. Professor Flitwick looked suspiciously at him, then his eyes widened as the Doctor made the feather in front of him wiz around the room effortlessly.

At the end of the day, Professor Mcgonagall decided to visit Professor Dumbledore. When she knocked the door, it opened revealing the professor, “Ah, Professor Mcgonagall, I was expecting you.” He looked up over his half-moon spectacles, “I expect it's about one Mr. John Smith.”

Yes Albus, he transfigured his match into a needle on his first try.”

”He has exhibited extraordinary knowledge in many of his classes. I think you should acknowledge all the teachers that we are to meet in my office tonight to discuss what we should do.” She nodded and exited the office.

Professor Mcgonagall and the other teachers arrived that night.

”He was barely able to get off the ground.” Madam Hooch was saying,

”So he's not a flyer,” pipped in Professor Flitwick, “but after a little positioning with his wand, his levitation charm was perfect.”

“I have done us all a favor and have invited him to my office earlier today.” Professor Dumbledore announced over all the talking. With that, they all turned to look at the headmaster,

“And what have you learned?” Professor Flitwick asked, clearly interested in this curious boy,

“He is a good lier.” Professor Dumbledore laughed,

“Perhaps you should try Legilimency?” Professor Mcgonagall suggested, referring to the wizard-equivalent of mind-reading,

“Perhaps.” Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully,

“And what about his classes?” Professor Mcgonagall asked, “there is no question that he needs more advanced classes.” Professor Dumbledore thought for a moment, before turning to Professor Binns, the only Ghost teacher,

“Where would you like to place him for History of magic?”

“First year.” Professor Binns replied, “He clearly has no idea about history, he keeps interrupting classes to make up a ridiculous story about an event.”

“Very well, first year. Pomona?”

“First year. He clearly has a lot of knowledge of plant life, but nothing is compared to experience.” Professor Sprout said, Professor Dumbledore nodded,

“Horace?”

“I haven’t had him yet, but I’d like to move him to seventh year. I want to see what he can do.” Professor Slughorn said,

“No. That’s ridiculous.” Professor Mcgonagall announced,

“Fine, sixth year.” Professor Slughorn said, and Professor Dumbledore nodded,

“Professor Snape?”

“I too am intrigued as to the level of skill Mr. Smith has, sixth year.” Another nod,

“Minerva, where would you have him placed?”

“I don’t know Albus.” Professor Mcgonagall admitted, “his Transfiguration was flawless. I don’t think he’d learn anything.” Knowing that hearing that from professor Mcgonagall meant there was nothing more he could do for him, Professor Dumbledore said,

How about a private lesson.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Professor Mcgonagall nodded,

“Fillius?”

“He was flawless in charms after a little help with his wand work.” Professor Flitwick said, “Sixth year.”

“What about flying? Should we remove him?” Professor Dumbledore asked Madam Hooch?

“No. He could barely get off the ground.”

“First year then. What about astronomy Aurora?” Professor Sinistra, the astronomy teacher,

“I haven’t had him yet, so we should keep him in first year.” Professor Dumbledore nodded silently,

“I would like you to notify him of this alteration at breakfast.” Professor Dumbledore said to Professor Mcgonagall, than the meeting dispersed.


	7. The Half-Blood Prince

Breakfast the next morning was particularly difficult for the Doctor. He had been found talking to Jack at the Slytherin table, and the Slytherins were not very happy about one of their Slytherin boys mingling with a Gryffindor, and as a first year, everyone seemed to find it easy to push him around. So he and Jack retreated to the library. “So much for ‘acting normal’ Doctor.” Jack laughed. The Doctor grinned at Jack, and all of a sudden, Professor Mcgonagall came rushing in,

“There you are!” they looked up, “Mr. Smith, I have your new schedule.” She handed him a schedule, “You have been placed in Sixth year Potions, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and you have private Transfiguration lessons.”

The Doctor looked up at Professor Mcgonagall, “I have taken the liberty to sign you up for all of them. I would encourage you to go to each class, and inform me if you’d like to drop out of any of them.” The Doctor nodded,

“And I’d like you to meet Professor Dumbledore in his office after lunch today.”

“Okay.” The Professor hurried off, and Jack looked sadly at the Doctor,

“Now we won’t be in many classes together.” The Doctor shrugged.

The Doctor followed Harry, Ron, and Hermione to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, four floors below. They had been confused as to why the Doctor was joining in their class, but made no arguments. They stood in the hallway, waiting to gain access into the classroom.

“How much homework d’you reckon Snape’ll give us?” Ron asked Harry. As he spoke, the classroom door opened and Professor Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

“Inside.” He said. They filed in, and nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures around them of people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries, or strangely contorted body parts. “I have not asked you to take out your books,” said Professor Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of _Confronting the Faceless_ back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. “I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention.” His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry’s than anyone else’s. “You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced.” Professor Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. “The Dark Arts,” said Professor Snape, “are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and clever than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible.” The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the Professor, in his voice, the Doctor heard affection. The same kind of affection that he heard whenever Davros would speak, in that moment where he had to find his first move. It chilled him to the bone as Professor Snape continued, “Your defences must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures” – he indicated a few of them as he swept past – “give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse” – he waved his hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony – “feel the Dementor’s Kiss” – a wizard lying huddled and black-eyed, slumped against a wall – “or provoke the aggression of the Inferius” – a bloody mass upon the ground.

“Has an Inferius been seen, then?” asked a girl in a high pitched voice. “Is it definite, is he using them?”

“The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past,” said Professor Snape, “which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now…” He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him. “…you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?” Both the Doctor and Hermione’s hands both shot up. Professor Snape gave a curious look at the Doctor, and said, “Yes, Mr. Smith.”

“You gain the element of surprise, as your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you’re about to perform which gives you a split-second advantage.”

“Correct.” Professor Snape said, “Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some” – his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry – “lack.” Harry refused to drop his gaze, but glowered at Professor Snape until the Professor looked away. “You will now divide,” Professor Snape went on, “into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other _without speaking_ . The other will attempt to repel the jinx _in equal silence._ Carry on.” The Doctor paired up with Harry and easily flicked his own wand and sent Harry’s wand flying into his hand.

“Clearly being the chosen one doesn’t make your spellwork and better, Potter.” Professor Snape said, walking past them.

At the end of class, the Doctor found himself glancing over Harry’s shoulder at a letter. It read,

 

_**Dear Harry,** _

_**I would kindly like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.** _

_**Yours sincerely,** _

_**Albus Dumbledore** _

_**P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops** _

 

“Why are you meeting with Professor Dumbledore?” The Doctor asked, causing Harry to jump,

“He’s going to try to teach me some defense I guess.” Harry said as they set off to the dormitory.

After a few hours of work, the Doctor had managed to help Harry, Ron, and Hermione with their Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, as it was much too complicated for them, but the Doctor quickly understood it.

The Doctor, Harry, Hermione and Ron made their way to double potions that afternoon. “I don’t have a textbook.” The Doctor said,

“Me neither.” said Ron and Harry in unison. They all shrugged and proceeded into the join the queue in front of the classroom. “Hey Harry,” A boy greeted Harry as they approached, but before another word could be said, the dungeon doors opened and Professor Slughorn was beaming on the other side. As they filled the room, the Doctor noticed him greet himself, Harry, and another boy who had been at his lunch with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was already full of vapors and the smells of various potions. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws and the four Hufflepuffs, so the Doctor, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down together. The Doctor followed them over to the table nearest to a gold-coloured calderon emitting one of the most seductive scents the Doctor had ever inhaled. It smelled of Petrichor, old books, and Gallifrey. There was no other way to describe it. It smelled of Gallifrey, the grass, the wind, stared at the liquid, unsure of what mysterious Earth concoction could possibly make that smell.

“Now then, now then, now then,” said Professor Slughorn, “Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of _Advanced Potion-Making_ …”

“Sir?” The Doctor said, his hand flicking into the air,

“Yes, John, m’boy?”

“Neither Harry, Ron, nor I have a book or scale or anything, we didn’t know we’d be here.”  
“Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention… not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I’m sure we can lend you some scales, and we’ve got a small stock of old books here, they’ll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts…” Professor Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment’s foraging, emerged with three very battered-looking copies of _Advanced Potion-Making_ by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry, Ron, and the Doctor along with two sets of tarnished scales.

“Now then,” said Professor Slughorn, returning to the front of the class, “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?” He indicated to the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. It was colourless and odorless, almost indistinguishable from water. The Doctor’s hand shot up just a half-second before Hermione’s. Professor Slughorn pointed at him,

“It’s Veritaserum, a colourless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth.”

“Very good, very good!” Said Professor Slughorn happily. “Now,” he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table. It was a slow-bubbling, mud-like substance, “this one here is pretty well know… Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too… Who can –” The Doctor and Hermione both shot their hands in the air. Professor Slughorn seemed to hesitate for a moment, then pointed at Hermione,

“It’s Polyjuice Potion, sir,” she said.

“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here…” The Doctor’s hand shot up, as did Hermione,

“It’s Amortentia.” The Doctor said, looking at the potion nearest to him,

“It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask,” said Professor Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, “But I assume you know what it does?”

“It’s a very powerful love potion.” The Doctor said, “currently the most powerful.”

“Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” Hermione said, clearly trying to prove she had known what it was,

“May I ask your name, my dear?” asked Professor Slughorn,

“Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.” The Doctor noticed a blond boy from the Slytherin table lean close to another Slytherin boy and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Professor Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

“Oho! _‘One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she’s the best in our year!’_ I’m assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry.” The Doctor remembered Harry mention Hermione when they were at the lunch with Professor Slughorn,

“Yes, sir,” said Harry.

“Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger,” said Professor Slughorn genially. Hermione turned to harry with a radiant expression and whispered, “Did you really tell him I’m the best in the year? Oh, Harry!”

“Well, what’s so impressive about that?” whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. “You _are_ the best in the year – I’d’ve told him so if he’d asked me!” Hermione smiled but made a shushing gesture, so that they could hear what Professor Slughorn was saying. Ron looked slightly disgruntled.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create _love_ , of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room – oh yes,” he said, nodding gravely at the blond boy and the boy he’d been whispering to, both of whom were smirking skeptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love…” The Doctor nodded in understanding, “and now,” said Professor Slughorn, “it is time for us to start work.”

“Sir, you haven’t told us what’s in this one,” said one of the Hufflepuffs, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Professor Slughorn’s desk. The potion withing was splashing about merrily; it was the colour of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

“Oho,” said Professor Slughorn again. The Doctor was sure that Professor Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. “Yes. That. Well, _that_ one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it,” he turned, smiling to look at the Doctor and Hermione, “that one of you know what Felix Felicis does?” The Doctor raised his hand as Hermione blurted out,

“It’s liquid luck,” said Hermione excitedly. “It makes you lucky!” The whole class seemed sit up a little straighter.

“Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it’s a funny little potion, Felix Felicis,” said Professor Slughorn. “Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed… at least until the effects wear off.”

“Why don’t people drink it all the time, sir?” asked a Ravenclaw boy eagerly,

“Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence,” said Professor Slughorn. “Too much of a good thing, you know… highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally…”

“Have you ever taken it, sir?” asked another Ravenclaw with great interest.

“Twice in my life,” said Professor Slughorn. “Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days.” He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, the effect was very good. “And that,” said Professor Slughorn, apparently coming back to Earth, “is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.” THere was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold. “One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis,” said Professor Slughorn, taking a miniscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. “Enough for twelve hours’ luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.

“Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions… sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only… and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!”

“So,” said Professor Slughorn, suddenly brisk, “how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of _Advanced Potion-Making_. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!”

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. THe concentration within the room was almost tangible. The Doctor watched as the blond boy rifled feverishly through his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. It could not have been clearer that the boy wanted that lucky day.

The Doctor easily tossed together the potion with perfect accuracy, at the end of the time, the Doctor looked around and saw that only not even Harry’s potion had turned as pale as his was, though it was very close. Professor Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally have the potions a stir or sniff. When he got to the Doctor’s and Harry’s (which both happened to be right next to each other),  
“Excellent, John! Excellent! If I didn’t know better, I would say this is professional work.” He then turned to Harry, “And Harry m’boy! It’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are then, John, one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well.” The Doctor slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket.

“How did you do that?” Hermione whispered to the Doctor and Harry as they left the dungeons, her potion had been a deep purple. The Doctor shrugged,  
“I’ve had plenty of experience.” He then turned to Harry, “But how did you do it?” As they entered the common room, Harry pulled out his _Advanced Potion-Making_ textbook, in it, instructions were crossed out and replaced with more accurate ones written in.

“We ought to check that there’s nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?” The Doctor flicked his wand,

“ _Specialis Revelio._ ” Nothing happened and the Doctor placed his wand back into his pocket.

“Looks fine to me.” Picking it up, he flipped open the front cover and scribbled on the bottom of the back cover in small, cramped handwriting, it simply said:

 

_This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince._


	8. The Arrival of the TARDIS

When in three days the TARDIS arrived, the Doctor was overjoyed to see her again. He rushed out of the Great Hall, Jack at his heels, leaving a confused Harry, Ron, and Hermione to scramble after them. The Doctor entered the Owlery, where he found the TARDIS and walked in, Jack shutting the door just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached the top of the stairs. The Doctor ran to the console which he stroked affectionately. “Yeah, I missed you, girl.” There was a knock on the TARDIS door and Hermione’s voice called,

“Jack, Doctor?” The Doctor stuck his head out the door, not quite prepared to tell the three sixth-years he was an alien,

“Yes?”

“This box, why are you in it?” Harry asked awkwardly,

“Just checking something, I’ll just be a tick.” And with that, the Doctor shut the door again and ran back to the console,

“What are you checking?” Jack asked, joining his side, “The Half-Blood Prince. I want to know who they are.” The Doctor flicked a couple lever and furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked up at the scanner, Gallifreyan words running quickly across the screen,

“So, who are they?” Jack asked after a few minutes,

“I don’t know.” The Doctor said, running a hand through his hair, “There’s nothing here about it.”

“Nothing?”

“There was a woman named Eileen Prince, but – oh! I am thick!” The Doctor spun around, flicking more levers to bring up more data, “I am so thick, Jack! Eileen Prince, the mother of Severus Snape, prior potions master!”

“So, she was the Half-Blood Prince then?”

“No,” The Doctor said as if the thought was ridiculous, “She was pureblood, but married a Muggle, Tobias Snape, making Severus Snape a Half-Blood.”

“So, Snape’s the Half-Blood Prince?”

“Yep.” The Doctor affirmed, then there was another round of knocking,

“Doctor, Jack?” Harry called,

“Coming!” The Doctor said, pulling Jack back to the door. They opened the door a crack and slid through, not letting Harry, Ron, or Hermione get a look inside.

“What were you doing in there?” Hermione asked,

“Oh, just doing some reading.” The Doctor improvised, walking down the steps,

“In a telephone box?” Harry asked, confused,

“Why yes, what’s wrong with reading in a telephone box?” The Doctor said, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to contemplate together as he and Jack returned to dinner.

 

The next morning at breakfast, the Doctor saw a beautiful white snowy owl drop a package in front of Harry. “Ha!” said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ , fresh from Flourish and Blotts.

“Oh good,” said Hermione, delighted. “Now you can give that graffitied copy back.”

“Are you mad?” said Harry. “I’m keeping it! Look, I’ve thought it out –” He pulled the old copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, “ _Diffendo!_ ” The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand-new book, then swapped the covers, tapped each, and said “ _Reparo!_ ” There sat the Prince’s copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly secondhand. “I’ll give Slughorn back the new one, he can’t complain, it cost nine Galleons.” Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by another owl landing in front of her carrying that day’s copy of the _Daily Prophet_. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page.

“Anyone we know dead?” asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice, he posed the same question every time Hermione opened the paper.

“No, but there have been more dementor attacks,” said Hermione. “And an arrest.”

“Excellent, who?” asked Harry,

“Stan Shunpike,” said Hermione

“What?” said Harry, startled,

“ _‘Stanley Shunpike, conductor on the popular Wizarding conveyance the Knight Bus, has been arrested on suspicion of Death Eater activity. Mr. Shunpike, 21, was taken into custody late last night after a raid on his Clapham home… '_ ”

“Stan Shunpike, a Death Eater?” said Harry, “No way!”

“He might have been put under the Imperius Curse,” said Ron reasonably. “You never can tell.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” said Hermione, who was still reading. “It says here he was arrested after he was overheard talking about the Death Eaters’ secret plans in a pub.” She looked up with a troubled expression on her face. “If he was under the Imperius Curse, he’d hardly stand around gossiping about their plans, would he?”

“It sounds like he was trying to make out he knew more than he did,” said Ron. “Isn’t he the one who claimed he was going to become Minister of Magic when he was trying to chat up those veela?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” said Harry. “I dunno what they’re playing at, taking Stan seriously.”

“They probably want to look as though they’re doing something,” said Hermione, frowning. “People are terrified – you know the Patil twins’ parents want them to go home? And Eloise Midgen has already been withdrawn. Her father picker her up last night.”

“What!” said Ron, goggling at Hermione. “But Hogwarts is safer than their homes, bound to be! We’ve got Aurors, and all those extra protective spells, and we’ve got Dumbledore!”

“I don’t think we’ve got him all the time,” said Hermione very quietly, glancing toward the staff table over the top of the _Prophet_. “Haven’t you noticed? His seat’s been empty as often as Hagrid’s this past week.” The Doctor glanced at the staff table, noting that the headmaster was indeed gone. “I think he’s left the school to do something with the Order,” said Hermione in a low voice. “I mean… it’s all looking serious, isn’t it?”

That afternoon, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, led the Doctor and Jack down to Hagrid’s cabin. “I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty,” Ron was saying happily, discussing the quidditch trials that had just been held, “Tricky shot from Demelza, did you see, had a bit of spin on it –”

“Yes, yes, you were magnificent,” said Hermione, looking amused.

“I was better than McLaggen anyway,” said Ron in a highly satisfied voice. “Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he’d been Confounded…” Hermione turned a very deep shade of pink at these words. Ron noticed nothing; he was too busy describing each of his other penalties in loving detail.

A great gray hippogriff was tethered in front of Hagrid’s cabin. He clicked his razor-sharp beak at their approach and turned his huge head toward them. “Hello,” The Doctor said, stroking the hippogriff’s feathered head. “Oh, who’s Sirius Black?” Harry spun around, staring at the Doctor,

“How do you know about him? Er, not know? How do you know his name?”

“Buckbeak told me.” The Doctor said, gesturing to the hippogriff.

“What?” Harry asked,

“I speak hippogriff.”

“That’s impossible.” Hermione said, the Doctor just shrugged,

“Oi!” said a loud voice. Hagrid had come striding around the corner of his cabin wearing a large flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes. His enormous boarhound was at his heels and gave a booming bark and bounded forward.

“Git away from him! He’ll have yer fingers – oh. It’s yeh lot.” The dog was jumping up at Hermione and Ron, attempting to lick their ears. Hagrid stood and looked at them all for a split second, then turned and strode into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

“Oh dear!” said Hermione, looking stricken.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry, grimly. He walked over to the door and knocked loudly. “Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!” There was no sound from within. “If you don’t open the door, we’ll blast it open!” Harry said, pulling out his wand.

“Harry!” said Hermione, sounding shocked. “You can’t possibly –”

“Yeah, I can!” said Harry. “Stand back –” But before he could say anything else, the door flew open again as Harry had clearly known he would, and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at them and looking, despite the flowery apron, positively alarming.

“I’m a teacher!” He roared at Harry. “A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!”

“I’m sorry _sir_ ,” said Harry, emphasizing the last word as he stowed his wand inside his robes. Hagrid looked stunned. “Since when have yeh called me ‘sir’?”

“Since when have you called me ‘Potter’?”

“Oh, very clever,” growled Hagrid. “Very amusin’. That’s me outsmarted, innit? All righ’, come in then, yeh ungrateful little…” Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass.

“Well?” said Hagrid grumpily, as the Doctor, Jack, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Harry sat down around his enormous wooden table, the dog laying his head immediately upon Harry’s knee and drooling all over his robes.

“What’s this? Feelin’ sorry for me? Reckon I’m lonely or summat?”

“No,” said Harry at once. “We wanted to see you.”

“We’ve missed you!” said Hermione tremulously.

“Missed me, have yeh?” snorted Hagrid. “Yeah. Righ’.” He stomped around, brewing up tea in his enormous copper kettle, muttering all the while. Finally he slammed down five bucket-sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front of them and a plate of his rock cakes. Harry was hungry enough even for Hagrid’s cooking, and took one at once.

“Hagrid,” said Hermione timidly, when he joined them at the table and started peeling his potatoes with a brutality that suggested that each tuber had done him a great personal wrong, “we really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know.” Hagrid gave another great snort, “We did!” Hermione tried to assure him, “But none of us could fit it into our schedules!”

“Yeah. Righ’,” said Hagrid again. There was a funny squelching sound and they all looked around: Hermione let out a tiny shriek, and Ron leapt out of his seat and hurried around the table away from the large barrel standing in the corner that they had only just noticed. It was full of what looked like slimy, white, writhing, foot-long maggots.

“They’re just giant grubs.” The Doctor assured Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had bolted to the other end of the room, Jack had shifted away, but not as far as the others.

“I got ‘em ter feed Aragog.” And without warning, he burst into tears,

“Who’s Aragog?” The Doctor asked Harry as Hermione rushed to Hagrid’s side,

“He’s an Acromantula who lives in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid raised him.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked Hagrid,

“It’s… him…” gulped Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes streaming as he mopped his face with his apron. “It’s…Aragog…I think he’s dyin’…He got ill over the summer an’ he’s not gettin’ better…I don’ know what I’ll do if he…If he…We’ve bin tergether so long…” Hermione patted Hagrid’s shoulder, looking at a complete loss for anything to say.

“What’s he sick with?” The Doctor asked,

“He’s old, John,” Hagrid wept,

“Ah, old age, the one thing that can’t be cured.”


	9. Hogsmeade

Halfway through October came the first Hogsmeade trip of the term to Hogsmeade. The Doctor, as a first year, was technically not supposed to come on the trip, but there was no way a few rules were going to stop him. Jack joined him, Harry, Ron, and Hermione at breakfast. “Doctor!” Ron said as he sat down, “You won’t believe what just happened!” The Doctor gave him a curious look, and he continued, “So, I was sleeping, right? And suddenly, I woke to a bright flash of light, and before I knew it, I was dangelging in the air by my ankle, and then there was another flash of light and I landed on the bed again!” Ron grinned, helping himself to more sausages.

“Was this spell by any chance, another one from that potions book of yours?” she asked, Harry frowned at her,

“Always jump to the worst conclusion, don’t you?”

“Was it?”

“Well…yeah, it was, but so what?”

“You shouldn’t use spells from there.” The Doctor said, “If this was from who I think it was from, than I think not all these spells will be as harmless.”

“You know who wrote it?” Ron asked eagerly, the Doctor shrugged, his time-sense warning him not to say anything.

“Plus, it’s probably not Ministry Approved.” Hermione said,

“It was a laugh!” Said Ron, upending a ketchup bottle over his sausages. “Just a laugh, Hermione, that’s all.”

“Just, check with me before using any more of those spells.” the Doctor said warningly,

“Why?” Harry asked,

“Because I know Latin and Greek.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” asked Ron, swallowing a large mouthful of sausage,

“Because, _Ron_ ,” said Hermione, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but all our spells are in Latin and Greek.”

“Oh.” Ron shrugged and dug into his sausages again,

“I’ve thought about learning them myself,” said Hermione, “But I’ve never got around to it. And anyway, dangling people upside down by the ankle? Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?”

“Fred and George,” said Ron, shrugging, “it’s kind of their thing. And, er –”

“My dad.” said Harry,

“What?” said Ron, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor at once,

“My dad used this spell,” said Harry. “I – Lupin told me.” The Doctor could tell that the last part wasn’t true, but he didn’t call him out for it.

Using the psychic paper, the Doctor and Jack managed to convince Filch, the caretaker, that they had special permission from Professor Dumbledore to go to Hogsmeade. “Come on, we’ll head to Honeydukes.” Harry suggested as they hurried down the freezing path to the small village. Honeydukes, as it turned out, was a small sweets shop. The moment they stepped in, they heard the booming voice of Professor Slughorn. “John, m’boy!” the Professor was wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat with matching fur collar, and was clutching a large bag of crystalized pineapple.

“Both you and Mr. Potter have missed three of my little suppers now!” The Doctor had been skipping the meetings with Professor Slughorn, as had Harry, “It won’t do, m’boy, I’m determined to have you! Miss Granger loves them, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Hermione helplessly, “they’re really –”

“So why don’t you two come along?” demanded Professor Slughorn,

“I’ve been having private studies.” The Doctor lied,

“And I’ve had Quidditch practice, Professor,” said Harry, who had obviously been scheduling practices every time Professor Slughorn had sent a little, violet ribbon-adorned invitation. It was a clever idea that meant not only was Ron not left out, but the Doctor could join them and Ginny and have a laugh.

“Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work!” said Professor Slughorn to Harry, “And I expect you to be getting top marks after all this studying, Mr. Smith. But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can’t possibly want to practice in this weather…”

“I can’t, Professor, I’ve got – er – and appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening.”

“And I’ve got a study with Professor McGonagall.” The Doctor lied again,

“Unlucky again!” Cried Professor Slughorn dramatically. “Ah, well… you can’t evade me forever.” With a regal wave, he exited the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

“I can’t believe you’ve wriggled out of another one,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “They’re not _that_ bad, you know… They’re even quite fun sometimes…” But then she caught sight of Ron’s expression. “Oh, look – they’ve got deluxe sugar quills – those would last hours!”

Glad that Hermione had changed the subject, the Doctor showed much more interest in the new extra-large sugar quills that he would have normally done, but Ron continued to look moody and merely shrugged when Hermione asked him where he wanted to go next. “Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks,” said Harry. “It’ll be warm.” They bundled their scarves back over their faces and left the sweetshop. The street was deserted with the exception of two men a little ahead of them, standing outside the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin, he drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in his arms. There were barely feet in front of him, when Harry cried out, “Mundungus!” The squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

“Oh, ‘ello, ‘Arry,” said Mundungus, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. “Well, don’t let me keep ya.” He began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of the man eager to be gone.

“Are you selling this stuff?” asked Harry, watching Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

“Oh, well, gotta scrape a living,” said Mundungus. “Gimme that!” Ron had stooped down and picked up something silver.

“Hang on,” Ron said slowly. “This looks familiar –”

“Thank you!” said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron’s hand and stuffing it back into the case. “Well, I’ll see you all – OUCH!” Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by his throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.

“Harry!” Squealed Hermione.

“You took that from Sirius’s house,” said Harry, who was almost nose to nose with Mundungus, “That had the Black family crest on it.”

“I – no – what –?” spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple.

“What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?” Snarled Harry.

“I – no –”

“Give it to me!”   
“Harry, you mustn’t!” shrieked Hermione, as Mundungus started to turn blue.

There was a bang, and as the Doctor saw Harry’s hands fly of Mundungus’s throat, he summoned the fallen case just as he seized for it. Looking up, he saw the angry students, swore, and with a _CRACK,_ he Disapperated. The Doctor tossed Harry the case, but Harry was still fuming,

“He’s nicked Sirius’s stuff! Nicked it!”

“We got it back,” Hermione tried to say helpfully,

“Yeah, but he’s already probably sold loads of it.” Harry snarled.

“Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?” Jack asked, looking between the four other students. Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded, and they set off back the way they came, right behind a girl the Doctor recognized as Katie Bell and another girl who must have been her friend. As they continued, the two girls’ voices got louder, over the harsh winds, the Doctor heard Katie shout,

“This has nothing to do with you, Leanne!” Leanne suddenly made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell on the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet, there was something wrong, something eerie… Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, the Doctor, and Leanne had all halted in their tracks, watching.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream that shocked the Doctor into action. As her eyes flew open and she screamed again, the Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and scanned the package that had been dropped to the ground. It contained a necklace made of opals that was cursed. In an instant, Jack was by his side, “Make sure no one touches that.” The Doctor said, pointing to the package, Jack nodded and the Doctor flicked his wand, sending Katie lowering to the ground. Running to her side, he placed two fingers on her temples, calming her mind. The moment he touched her, her body relaxed and the girl fell unconscious. “John,” Hagrid’s voice sounded from behind them, causing them all to spin around. “Wha’ the hell did yeh do ter her?”

“Saved her life, help me bring her back to the castle.” Hagrid asked no more questions and picked her up,

“I saw wha’ happened, wha’ did yeh do with her head?”

“Magic.” The Doctor said sarcastically, but no further questions were asked.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, the Doctor, and Leanne returned to the castle and were immediately brought to Professor McGonagall as the still unconscious Katie was brought to the hospital wing. “Hagrid said you six saw what happened to Katie Bell –  upstairs to my office at once, please! What’s that you’re holding Harkness?”

“It’s the thing she touched,” said Harry,

“Good lord,” said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Jack. “No, no, Filch, they’re with me!” She added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. “Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf.”   
The group of students followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-splattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, the Doctor, and a sobbing Leanne. “Well?” She said sharply, “What happened?”

Haltingly, and with many pauses, Leanne told Professor McGonagall, “Well, we were in the Three Broomsticks, when she went to the bathroom. When she came back, she was holding the package, she said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it… Oh no, oh no, I bet she’d been Imperiused and I didn’t realize!” Leanne shook with renewed sobs,

“Did she say who’d given it to her?” Professor McGonagall prompted,

“No… she wouldn’t tell me… and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn’t listen and… and then I tried to grab it from her… and – and –” Leanne let out a wail of despair, “the packaging tore.”

“It was a curse.” The Doctor explained, “I’ve seen that kind of thing before. Normally, a brush like that would have caused months of recovery in hospital, but I managed to close off the vulnerable part of her mind it was using to penetrate. She’s lucky she didn’t make direct contact, as it would have killed her.”

“And how did you manage that, Mr. Smith?”

“Oh, a bit of mind magic, nothing too exciting.”

“And what did this ‘mind magic’ entail?”

“Oh, just your basic tips and tricks, nothing special.” Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

“All right,” said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly to Leanne, “go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock.” Leanne nodded and left the room, and Professor McGonagall turned back to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor, “What happened when Katie touched the necklace?”

“She entered a trance of emptiness, levitated approximately six feet in the air, and suffered a short seizure before I could get to her. Had she continued she would have fallen back down and had temporary memory loss.” The Doctor said,

“And how do you know that?” Professor McGonagall said skeptically,

“I’ve told you, I’ve seen it before.” the Professor nodded, seemily accepting that answer.

The five students walked to the Gryffindor Common Room, Jack had been coming often enough that he no longer got confused or angry looks from the other Gryffindors. “I think it was Malfoy.” Harry said angrily,

“Harry, that’s some advanced magic, there’s no way Draco could have done that.” Harry hesitated,

“But it was in the shop when I went. I saw it, and Malfoy was there, I’ll bet you anything it was him.”

“But Harry,” Hermione said, “We have no proof.”


	10. The Christmas Party

By the next day, the news that Katie had been cured ad spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, the Doctor, and Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target. “Oh, and Malfoy knows of course,” said Harry to the Doctor, Ron, Hermione, and Jack at breakfast. Then, Hermione said,

“Hey, Harry, Ron, can I talk to you for a second?” The Doctor and Jack looked curiously at Hermione curiously, but didn’t seem to argue, so Hermione took Harry and Ron out of earshot.

“What is it, Hermione?” Harry asked,

“It’s the Doctor and Jack, I don’t think we can trust them.”

“What, why?” Ron asked,

“It’s just, after Katie Bell, it’s got me thinking, how does he know so much about dark magic? He said he’d encountered it before and, well, we don’t really know anything about him…” Harry and Ron seemed to contemplate this for a moment,

“We don’t even know his name…” Ron said quietly,

“Should we ask him?” Harry asked,

“Would he tell us?” Hermione asked,

“Maybe we should just keep an eye on them.” Harry suggested, “I mean, they’ve not really done anything wrong yet.” Hermione and Ron both shrugged.

The following morning, Harry came running up to Hermione, Ron, Jack, and the Doctor. “You won’t believe what Dumbledore just showed me.” Harry said. He explained how Professor Dumbledore had shown him a memory of the Dark Lord Voldemort as a child. How the headmaster himself had recruited the young boy to the school.

“Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who,” said Ron quietly once Harry had finished his story, “But I still don’t get why Dumbledore’s showing you all this. I mean, it’s really interesting and everything, but what’s the point?”

“Dunno,” said Harry, “But he says it’s all important and it’ll help me survive.”

“I think it’s fascinating,” said Hermione earnestly, “It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?”

“So, how was Slughorn’s latest party?” Harry asked, changing the subject,

“Oh, it was quite fun really, by the way,” Hermione turned to address Harry and the Doctor, “Slughorn’s going to have a Christmas party, and there’s no way the two of you will be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, Harry, and he’s spoken with all of the teachers to make sure you’ll have the evening free, Doctor.” Harry and the Doctor groaned. Meanwhile, Ron said angrily,

“And this is another party just for Slughorn’s favorites, is it?”

“Just for the Slug Club, yes,” said Hermione

“ _Slug Club_ ,” repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Draco Malfoy, “It’s pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don’t you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug–”

“We’re allowed to bring guests,” said Hermione, who for some reason had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, “and I was _going_ to ask you to come, but if you think it’s that stupid then I won’t bother!” Ron froze,

“You were going to ask me?”

“Yes,” said Hermione angrily. “But obviously if you’d rather I _‘hooked up with McLaggen’_ …” There was a pause,

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas tree for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armor and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors. “Who are you taking to the Christmas party, John?” Nichole Lambert, a fellow first year Gryffindor asked the Doctor at breakfast, as it was well-known that the Doctor and Jack were the only two first years in the Slug Club.

“Er, I figured I’d take Jack.”

“Well, he’s invited anyway, so why don’t you take someone else?” She asked, fluttering her eyelashes,

“Why don’t you ask Jack, then?” The Doctor said,

“What about _you_ John?”

“I dunno, I’ll find someone.”

“But it’s tonight.” She prompted, the Doctor shrugged. “Oh, you are so oblivious, John.” Nichole said, “I would like to go with _you_.”

“Oh.” The Doctor said, “Er, no, sorry. Ask Jack.” And with that, he returned to the boys dormitory where she couldn’t follow.

At eight o’clock that night, the Doctor met up with Jack, who winked at him, “Hey Doc, we could always skip the affair and have some pleasantries of our own.”

"I already told you, buy me a drink first. Now come on.”

They made their way to Professor Slughorn’s office. Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Professor Slughorn’s office was much larger than the usual teacher’s study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversion, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables. “John, m’boy!” boomed Professor Slughorn, almost as soon as Jack and the Doctor had squeezed in through the door. “Come in, come in, so many people I’d like you to meet!”

Professor Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping the Doctor’s arm tightly, Professor Slughorn led him purposefully into the party; Jack followed right behind him.

After Professor Slughorn had finished dragging the Doctor around the party and introducing him to people, he managed to pull away and he and Jack met up with Harry and Hermione. “John, Jack, there you are, thank goodness!”   
“What’s happened to you?” Jack asked,

“Oh, I’ve just escaped – I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,” she said. “Under the mistletoe,” she added in explanation, as the Doctor and Jack continued to look questioningly at her.

“Serves you right for coming with him.” Harry said, walking over and joining in on the conversation,

“I thought he’d annoy Ron most,” said Hermione dispassionately. “I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought on the whole –”

“ _You considered Smith?_ ” said Harry, revolted.

“Yes, I did, and I’m starting to wish I’d chosen him. Let’s go this way, we’ll be able to see him coming he’s so tall…”

The four of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way. Suddenly, Harry stared right at Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape. Professor Snape had placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder, “I’d like a word with you Draco.” He said coldly,

“Oh, now, Severus,” said Professor Slughorn, whom Draco had just been speaking to, “It’s Christmas, don’t be too hard –”

“I’m his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be,” said Professor Snape curtly. “Follow me, Draco.” They exited the room, Professor Snape leading the way, Draco looking resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, irresolute, then said, “I’ll be back in a bit, – er – bathroom.” He set off in the direction of Draco and Professor Snape,

“Me too.” The Doctor grabbed Jack’s hand,

“Taking me up on my offer, Doc?” Jack grinned, the Doctor rolled his eyes and continued to follow Harry. They watched as Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak. The Doctor tossed Jack a perception filter, and they silently followed Draco and Professor Snape into the corridor. They were speaking in low voices,

“…cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled –”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it, all right?”

“I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it.”

“Who suspects me?” said Draco angrily, “For the last time, I didn’t do it, okay? That Bell girl must’ve had an enemy no one knows about – don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re doing, I’m not stupid, but it won’t work – I can stop you!” There was a pause and then Professor Snape said quietly,

“Ah… Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?”

“I’m not trying to conceal anything from _him_ , I just don’t want _you_ butting in!”

“So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco –”

“So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!” jeered Draco. There was another pause. Then Professor Snape said,

“You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things.”

“You’d better stop telling me to come to your office then!”

“Listen to me,” said Professor Snape, his voice low, “I’m trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco –”

“Looks like you’ll have to break it, then, because I don’t need your protection! It’s my job, he gave it to me and I’m doing it, I’ve got a plan and it’s going to work, it’s just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!”

“What is your plan?”

“It’s none of your business!”

“If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you –”

“I’ve got all the assistance I need, thanks, I’m not alone!”

“You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes –”

“I would’ve had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn’t put them in detention!”

“Keep your voice down!” spat Professor Snape, for Draco’s voice had risen excitedly. “If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres –”

“What does it matter?” said Draco. “Defense Against the Dark Arts – it’s all just a joke, isn’t it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts –”

“It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!” said Professor Snape. “Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle –”

“They’re not the only ones, I’ve got other people on my side, better people!”

“Then why not confide in me, and I can –”

“I know what you’re up to! You want to steal my glory!” There was another pause, then Professor Snape said coldly,

“You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father’s capture and imprisonment has upset you, but –” There was barely a second’s warning; they heard Draco’s footsteps on the other side of the door and the Doctor and Jack stepped out of the way, feeling the impact of an invisible Harry jumping out of the way. The door burst open and Draco strode away down the corridor, past the open door of Professor Slughorn’s office, around the distant corner, and out of sight.


	11. Birthday Surprises

Christmas came and Ron, Harry, and Hermione all left the castle leaving Jack and the Doctor. As Christmas ended, Harry was called to Professor Dumbledore’s office. He came running back, “You won’t believe what just happened.” He said. Ron, Hermione, the Doctor, and Jack gathered around Harry as he began his story,

“So I was with Dumbledore, and he showed me a memory in the pensieve. It was of a kid Voldemort asking about Horcruxes, but Slughorn tampered with the memory and Dumbledore said I need to find a way to get the original memory from Slughorn.” The Doctor slowly nodded, then asked,

“Harry, do you know what a Horcrux is?” Harry shook his head, so the Doctor continued, “A Horcrux is an object in which a wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of their soul. Where it does make them immortal until the Horcrux is destroyed, they can only be created after commiting a murder and an even more horrible act. It tears the soul apart.”

“That’s horrible!” Hermione gasped.

“Well, you shouldn’t have any problems with Slughorn,” Ron said, “He loves you. Won’t refuse you anything, will he? Not his little Potions Prince. Just hang back after class this afternoon and ask him.”

“He must be determined to hide what really happened if Dumbledore couldn’t get it out of him,” Hermione said gloomily.

Two days later, the Doctor noticed Harry stay after class in potions, lingering at the door, he heard Professor Slughorn’s voice, “Come on, now, Harry, you’ll be late for you next lesson,” he said affably,

“Sir,” said Harry, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away, then, my dear boy, ask away…”

“Sir, I wondered what you know about…about Horcruxes?” There was a moment of silence, then Professor Slughorn asked hoarsely,

“What did you say?”

“I asked whether you know anything about Horcruxes, sir. You see –”

“Dumbledore put you up to this.” Whispered Slughorn. His voice had changed completely. It was not genial anymore, but shocked, terrified. “Dumbledore’s show you that – that memory. Well? Hasn’t he?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted,

“Yes, of course,” said Professor Slughorn quietly, still dabbing at his white face. “Of course… well, if you’ve seen that memory, Harry, you’ll know that I don’t know anything – _anything_ – about Horcruxes.” Professor Slughorn marched out the dungeon door, not noticing the Doctor as he passed,

“Sir,” said Harry desperately, “I just thought there might be a bit more to the memory –”

“Did you?” said Professor Slughorn. “Then you were wrong, weren’t you? WRONG!” He bellowed the last word and slammed the dungeon door behind him. The Doctor looked at Harry, who sighed,

“That was, less than ideal.”

February moved toward March with no change in the weather except that it became windy as well as wet. To general indignation, a sign went up on all common room notice boards that the next trip into Hogsmeade had been canceled. Ron was furious. “It was on my birthday!” he said. “I was looking forward to that!”

“Not a big surprise, though, is it?” said Harry. “Not after what happened to Katie.” Katie had fully recovered, but her parents didn’t want her back in the school yet due to trauma.

A few days later, Ron was unwrapping his birthday presents, and the Doctor joined Harry on his bed, looking over the Marauders’ Map (A map that showed everyone at Hogwarts), “I can’t find Malfoy.” Harry said, pointing at the map, the Doctor scanned it, and sure enough, Draco Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

“Want one?” Ron asked, holding out a box of Chocolate Cauldrons.

“No thanks,” Harry said, the Doctor turned them away too,

“Come on, if you don’t hurry up, you’ll have to Apparate on an empty stomach…” Ron said, as he and Harry were taking their Apparition lessons, “Might make it easier I suppose…” Ron looked thoughtfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugged and helped himself to a third. “Ready?” Ron asked once the Doctor and Harry had changed, the Doctor and Harry nodded, and the Doctor was halfway to the dormitory door when he realized that Ron had not moved, but was leaning on his bedpost, staring out of the rain-washes window with a strangely unfocused look on his face.

“Ron? Breakfast.” Harry said,

“I’m not hungry.” Ron replied, Harry stared at him,

“I thought you just said – ?”

“Well, all right, I’ll come down with you,” sighed Ron, “But I don’t want to eat.” The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows,

“You’ve just eaten half a box of Chocolate Cauldrons, haven’t you?”

“It’s not that,” Ron sighed again. “You… you wouldn’t understand.”

“Fair enough,” Harry said, opening the door for the Doctor and Ron,

“Harry! Doctor!” Ron said suddenly,

“What?” The Doctor and Harry asked in unison,

“I can’t stand it!”  
“Stand what?” The Doctor asked,

“I can’t stop thinking about her!” said Ron horsley. The Doctor looked puzzled, this was not what he had expected to hear. Ron had a girlfriend named Lavender, perhaps this was what he was referring to, the Doctor concluded,

“Why does that stop you having breakfast?” Harry asked,

“I don’t think she knows I exist.” said Ron with a desperate gesture.

“She definitely knows you exist,” said Harry, bewildered. “She keeps snogging you, doesn’t she?” Ron blinked,

“Who are you talking about?”

“Who are _you_ talking about?” asked Harry,

“Romilda Vane,” said Ron softly, and his whole face seemed to illuminate as he said it, as though hit by a ray of purest sunlight.

“This is a joke, right? You’re joking.” Harry said,

“I think… Harry, I think I love her,” said Ron in a strangled voice.

“Who’s Romilda?” The Doctor asked,

“She’s this girl who –” Harry began, than stopped, “Ron, where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?”

“They were a birthday present.” said ron, “I offered you one, didn’t I?”

“You just picked them up off the floor, didn’t you?”

“They’d fallen off my bed, all right?”

“They didn’t fall off your bed, you prat, don’t you understand? They were mine, I chucked them out of my trunk when I was looking for the map, they’re the Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda gave me before Christmas, and they’re all spiked with love potion!”

But the only one word that seemed to have registered with Ron was, “Romilda?” He repeated. “Did you say Romilda? Harry – do you know her? Can you introduce me?”

“Doctor, tell me you can make an antidote to a love potion.” The Doctor nodded,

“I could, but I’ve got a better idea.”

Where are we going?” Ron asked as they walked down the corridor to the dungeons. The Doctor had been slightly worried that Professor Slughorn might be at breakfast, but he answered his office door at the first knock, wearing a green velvet dressing gown and matching nightcap and looking rather bleary-eyed.

“Harry, John,” he mumbled. “This is very early for a call… I generally sleep late on a Saturday…”

“Professor, I’m really sorry to disturb you,” said the Doctor as politely as possible, “But my friend Ron has swallowed a love potion by mistake. You couldn’t make him an antidote, could you? I’d take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we’re not supposed to have anything from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, you know… awkward questions…”

“I’d have thought you could have whipped him up a remedy, John, an expert potioneer like you?” asked Professor Slughorn.

“Yes, but I thought maybe it was best to have a professional do it, you know, to make sure it’s done correctly.”

“Was this potion within date?” asked Professor Slughorn, now eyeing Ron with professional interest. “They can strengthen, you know, the longer they’re kept.”

“It’s from Christmas.” The Doctor said,

“Oh, all right, come in, then, come in,” said Professor Slughorn, “I've got the necessary here in my bag, it’s not a difficult antidote…” Ron burst through the door into Professor Slughorn’s overheated, crowded study, tripped over a tasseled footstool, regained his balance by seizing Harry around the neck, and muttered,

“She didn’t see that, did she?”

“She’s not here yet,” said the Doctor patiently, watching Professor Slughorn opening his potion kit and adding a few pinches of this and that to a small crystal bottle.

“That’s good,” said Ron fevently. “How do I look?”

“Very handsome,” said Professor Slughorn smoothly, handing Ron a glass of clear liquid. “Now drink that up, it’s a tonic for the nerves, keep you calm hen she arrives, you know.”

“Brilliant,” said Ron eagerly, and he gulped the antidote down noisily.” The Doctor, Harry, and Professor Slughorn watched him. For a moment, Ron beamed at them. Then, very slowly, his grin sagged and vanished, to be replaced by an expression of utmost horror.

“Back to normal, then?” asked Harry, grinning. Professor Slughorn chuckled,

“Thank you, Professor.” The Doctor smiled at him,

“Don’t mention it, m’boy, don’t mention it,” said Professor Slughorn as Ron collapsed into a nearby armchair, looking devastated. “Pick-me-up, that’s what he needs,” Professor Slughorn continued, now bustling over to a table loaded with drinks. “I’ve got butterbeer, I’ve got wine, I’ve got one last bottle of this oak-mature mead…hmm… meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas… ah, well…” He shrugged. “He can’t miss what he’s never had! Why don’t we open it now and celebrate Mr. Weasley’s birthday? Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love…” He chortled again,

“There you are then,” said Professor Slughorn, handing Harry, Ron, and the Doctor a glass of mead each before raising his own. “Well, a very happy birthday, Ralph –”

“Ron –” The Doctor heard Harry whisper to Professor Slughorn. Bur Ron, who did not appear to be listening to the toast, had already thrown the mead into his mouth and swallowed it.

There was one second, hardly more than a hearts beat, in which the Doctor realized something was terribly wrong, and Professor Slughorn, it seemed, did not.

“ _Ron!_ ” The Doctor shouted. Ron had dropped his glass; he half-rose from his chair and then crumpled, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam was dribbling from his mouth, and his eyes were bulging from their sockets.

“Professor! Do something!” Harry had bellowed at Professor Slughorn, who seemed to be paralyzed by shock, but the Doctor had already lept into action, jumping over a low table, and sprinting over to where Professor Slughorn’s potion kit lay open. He pulled out jars and pouches, well aware that he was wasting prescious seconds by doing so, but finally, he found it. It was a small, shriveled kidney-like stone. He hurtled back to Ron’s side, wrenched open his jaw, and thrust the bezoar into Ron’s mouth. Ron gave a great shudder, a rattling gasp, and his body became limp and still.


	12. Elf Tails

“So, all in all, not one of Ron’s better birthdays?” said Fred. It was evening; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the lamps lit. Ron’s was the only occupied bed. Harry, Hermione, the Doctor, Jack, and Ginny were sitting around him; they had spent all day waiting outside the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or out. Madam Pomfrey had only let them enter at eight o’clock. Fred and George had arrived at ten past.

“This isn’t how we imagined handing over our present,” said George grimly, putting down a large wrapped gift on Ron’s bedside cabinet and sitting beside Ginny.

“Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious,” said Fred.

“There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him –” said George.

“You were in Hogsmeade?” asked Ginny, looking up.

“We were thinking of buying Zonko’s,” said Fred gloomily. “A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it’ll do us if you lot aren’t allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff anymore… but never mind that now.” He drew up a chair beside Harry and looked at Ron’s pale face.

“How exactly did it happen, Harry?” Harry retold the story he had already recounted, as most people asked him for the story.

“…and then the Doctor jumped up and got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he’ll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he’ll have to stay here a week or so… keep talking essence of rue…”

“Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar,” said George to the Doctor in a low voice,

“Lucky there was one in the room,” said the Doctor. Hermione have an almost inaudible sniff. SHe had been exceptionally quiet all day. Having hurtled, white-faced, up to the Doctor and Harry outside the hospital wing and demanded to know what had happened, she had taken almost no part in Harry and Ginny’s obsessive discussion about how they thought Ron had been poisioned (nor did the Doctor), but merely stood beside them, clench-jawed and frightened-looking, until at last they had been allowed in to see him.

“Do Mum and Dad know?” Fred asked Ginny.

“They’ve already seen him, they arrived an hour ago – they’re in Dumbledore’s office now, but they’ll be back soon…” There was a pause while they all watched Ron mumble a little in his sleep.

“So the posion was in the drink?” said Fred quietly.

“Yes,” The Doctor said, “I scanned it, Madam Pomfrey’s right, Essence of Rue. The drink was spiked with it, but the bottle was sealed, so it probably wasn’t Professor Slughorn who did it.” There was a nod,

“How do you mean, scanned it?” George asked,

“I mean, I Soniced it for traces of poison.”

“Soniced?” Fred questioned,

“Yes, Soniced.” The Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver, “It scans and unlocks doors…”

“Er-my-nee,” croaked Ron unexpectedly from between them. They all fell silent, watching him anxiously, but after muttering incomprehensibly for a moment, he mearly started snoring.

The dormitory doors flew open, making everyone but the Doctor jump: Hagrid came striding toward them, his hair rain-flecked, his bearskin coat flapping behind him, a crossbow in his hand, leaving a trail of muddy dolphin-sized footprints all over the floor. “Bin in the forst all day!” he panted. “Aragog’s worse, I bin readin’ to him – didn’ get up ter dinner til jus’ now an’ then Professor Sprout told me abou’ Ron! How is he?”

“Not bad, he’ll be okay.” The Doctor said,

“No more than seven visiotrs at a time!” said Madam Pomfrey, hurrying out of her office.

“Hagrid makes seven,” George pointed out.

“Oh…yes…” said Madam Pomfrey,

“This is what happens when you don’t teach maths in school.” The Doctor whispered to Jack, who smirked. To cover the nurse’s confused, she hurried off the clear up Hagrid’s muddy footprints with her wand.

“I don’ believe this,” said Hagrid hoarsely, shaking his great shaggy head as he stared down at Ron. “Jus’ don’ believe it… Look at him lyin’ there… Who’d want ter hurt him, eh?”

“That’s what we were just saying,” Harry said, “We don’t think it was aimed for him.”

Suddenly, the dormitory doors opened again and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurried up the ward. They had done no more to satisfy themselves taht Ron would make a full recovery on their last visit to the ward; now Mrs. Weasley seized hold of the Doctor and hugged him very tightly. “Dumbledore’s tol dus how you saved him with the bezoar,” She sobbed, “Oh, John, what can we say? You saved our son.”

“Er – I –” the Doctor stumbled awkwardly as the embrace with the unfermiluar woman ended.

“Seven visitors only!” Madam Pomfrey swaked, hurring back in. The Doctor, Harry, Hermion, Jack, and Hagrid decided to leave Ron with his family and they walked back along the corridor to the marble staircase.

“It’s terrible,” Growled Hagrid, “All this new secrutiry, an’ kids are still gettin’ hurt… Dumbledore’s worried sick… He don’ say much, but I can tell…”

“Look out,” said Hermione suddenly, they turned just in time to see the shadow of Argus Filch looming over the wall behind them before the man himself turned the corner, hunchbacked, his jowles aquiver.

“Oho!” he wheezed. “Out of bed so late, this’ll mean detention!”

“No it won’, Filch,” said Hagrid shortly. “They’re with me, aren’ they?”

“And what difference does that make?” asked Filch obnoxiously.

“I’m a ruddy teacher, aren’ I, yeh sneakin’ Squib!” said Hagrid, firing up at once. There was a nasty hissing noise as Filch swelled with fury; his cat, Mrs. Norris, had arrived, unseen, and was twisting herself sinuously around Filch’s skinny ankles.

“Get goin’,” said Hagrid out of the corner of his mouth. Harry, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor didn’t need telling twice, and the four of the sprinted off, Hagrid’s anf Filch’s raised voices echoed behind them as they ran. A few days later, the Doctor found himself visiting Harry in the hospital wing as well as Ron. Cormac McLaggen, the substatute Gryffindor Keeper in Quidditch for Ron, had accidently aimed a bludger right at Harry.

One afternoon, the Doctor was talking to Ron and Harry, when Ron finally asked Harry, “What’s your obsession with finding what Malfoy’s doing?” He asked, “You’re team captain, you can’t miss Quidditch match just to tail him.”

“I want to know what he’s up to,” said Harry. “And don’t tell me it’s all in my head, not after what I overheard between him and Snape –”

“I never said it was all in your head,” said Ron, hoisting himself up on an elbow in turn and frowning at Harry, “But there’s no rule saying only one person at a time can be plotting anything in this place! You’re getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. I mean, thinking about missing a match just to follow him…”

“I want to catch him at it!” said Harry in frustration. “I mean, where’s he going when he diesappears off the map?”

“I dunno… Hogsmeade?” suggested Ron, yawning.

“I’ve neber seen him going along any secret passageways on the map. I thought they were being watched now anyway?”

“Well then, I dunno,” said Ron. The room was silent for a minute, before Harry sat straight up in his bed,

“Kreacher?” There was a very loud _crack_ , and two house-elves were rolling around on the floor in the middle of the dormitory, one wearing a shrunken maroon jumper and several wooly hats, the other, a filthy old rag strung over his hips like a loincloth. Then, there was another loud bang, and Peeves the Poltergeist appeared in midair above the wrestling elves.

“I was watching that, Potty!” he told Harry indignantly, pointing at the fight below before letting out a loud cackle. “Look at the ichle creatures squabbling, bitey bitey, punchy punchy –”

“Kreacher will not insult Harry Potter in front of Dobby, no he won’t, or Dobby will shut Kreacher’s mouth for him!” Cried Dobby in a high-pitched voice.

“– kicky, scratchy!” cried Peeves happily, now pelting bits of chalk at the elves to enrage them further. “Tweaky, pokey!”

“ _Langlock_!” The Doctor flicked his wand, and Peeves clutched his throat, gulped, then swooped from the room making obscene gestures but unable to speak, owing to the fact that his tongue had just glued itself to the roof of his mouth.

“Right – I’m forbidding you to fight each other!” Harry cried to the two elves, “Well, Kreacher, you’re forbidden to fight Dobby. Dobby, I know I’m not allowd to give you orders –”

“Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obay anyone he likes and Dobby will do whatever Harry Potter wants him to do!” said Dobby, tears now streaming down his shriveled little face onto his jumper.

“Okay then,” said Harry,

“Master called me?” croaked Kreacher, sinking into a bow even as he gave Harry a look that plainly wished him a painful death.

“Yeah, I did,” said Harry, “I’ve got a job for you.”

“Kreacher will do whatever Master wants,” said Kreacher, sinking so low that his lips almost touched his gnarled toes, “because Kreacher has no choice, but Kreacher is ashamed to have such a master, yes –”

“Dobby will do it, Harry Potter!” squeaked Dobby, his tennis-ball-seized eyes still swimming in tears. “Dobby would be honored to help Harry Potter!”

“Come to think of it, it would be good to have both of you,” said Harry. “Okay then… I want you to tail Draco Malfoy.” Ignoring the look of mingled surprise and exsaperation on Ron’s face, Harry went on, “I want to know where he’s going, who he’s meeting, and what he’s doing. I want you to follow him around the clock.”

“Yes, Harry Potter!” said Dobby at once, his great eyes shining with excitement. “And if Dobby does it wrong, Dobby will throw himself off the topmost tower, Harry Potter!”

“There won’t be any need for that,” and Harry hastily.

“Master wants me to follow the youngest of the Malfoys?” croaked Kreacher. “Master wants me to spy upon the pure-blood great-nephew of my old mistress?”

“That’s the one,” said Harry, clearly foreseeing a great danger and determining to prevent it immediately. “And you’re forbidden to tip him off, Kreacher, or to show him what you’re up to, or talk to him at all, or write him messages, or… or to contact him in any way. Got it?”

He thought he could see Kreacher struggling to see a loophole in the instructions he had just been given and waited. After a moment or two, Kreacher bowed deeply again and said with bitter resentment, “Master thinks of everything, and Kreacher must obey him even though Kreacher would much rather be the servent of the Malfoy boy, oh yes…”

“That’s settled, then,” said Harry. “I’ll want regular reports, but make sure I’m not surrounded by people when you turn up. Ron, Hermione, and Jack are okay. And don’t tell anyone what you’re doing. Just stick to Malfoy like a couple of wart plasters.”

 


	13. After the Burial

Patches of bright blue sky were beginning to appear over the castle turrest as summer approached. Harry and Ron had already been released from the hospital wing. One afternoon, a girl approached the Doctor, Jack, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “I was asked to give you this.” she said, handing a small scroll of parchment to Harry.

“Thanks…” Harry said, and the girl scampered off. Inside was small piece of parchment with Hagrid’s untidy sprawl which was very difficult to read due to the presence of large blotches on the parchment where the ink had run.

 

_Dear Harry, Ron, Hermione, John, and Jack,_

_Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him, and you know how special he was. Hermione, Jack, Doctor, I know you’d have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if you’d nip down for the burial later this evening. I’m planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favorite time of day. I know you’re not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the cloak. Wouldn’t ask, but I can’t face it alone._

 

_Hagrid_

 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Hermione said, scanning it quickly and passing it to Ron, who read it throuh looking increasingly incredulous.

“He’s _mental_!” he said furiously. “That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over it’s horrible hairy body!”

“It’s not just that,” said Hermione. “He’s asking us to leave the castle at night and he knows security’s a million times tighter and how much trouble we’d be in if we were caught.” The Doctor shrugged,

“I’ll go, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure, Doctor?” Hermione asked,

“Yep.” The Doctor said, popping the ‘p’.

“Hey, I’m not arguing.” Ron said, “If I don’t have to go and he won’t be alone…”

That evening, the Doctor walked down to Hagrid’s using a perception filter. As he reached the bottom step, he noticed movement in the vegatable patch. Lurking behind a low stone wall, he listened to a conversation between Professor Sprout and Professor Slughorn, “I do thank you for taking the time, Pomona,” said Professor Slughorn, “most authorities agree that they are at their most efficacious if picked at twilight.”

“Oh, I quite agree,” said Professor Sprout warmly. “That enough for you?”

“Plenty, plenty,” said Professor Slughorn, who, the Doctor saw, was carrying an armful of leafy plants. “This should allow for a few leaves for each of my third years, and some spare if anybody over-stews them… Well, good evening to you, and many thanks again!” Professor Sprout headed off into the gathering darkness in the dirextion of her greenhouses, and Professor Slughorn directed his steps to the Doctor,

“Good evening, Professor.” The Doctor said,

“Merlin’s beard, John, you made me jump,” said Professor Slughorn, stopping dead in his tracks and looking wary. “How did you get out of the castle?”

“Filch must have forgotten to lock the doors,” said the Doctor, Professor Slughorn scowled,

“I’ll be reporting that man, he’s more concerned about litter than proper security if you ask me… But why are you out here, John?”

“Well, it’s Hagrid,” the Doctor said, “He’s just lost a friend, I want to be there for him.”

“Who did he lose?” Professor Slughorn asked,

“An Acromantula, he’s had him for years… He lived in the forest…”

“I heard rumors there were Acromantulas in the forest,” said Professor Slughorn softly, looking over at the mass of black trees. “It’s true, then?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said, “But this one, Aragog, he was the first one Hagrid ever got, he died last night. Hagrid’s devastated. He wants company while he burries him, and I said I’d go.”

“Touching, touching,” said Professor Slughorn absentmindedly, his large droopy eyes fixed upon the distant lights of Hagrid’s cabin. “But acromantula venom is very valuable… If the beast only just died it might not yet have dried out… Of course, I wouldn’t want to do anything intensive if Hagrid is upset… But if there was any way to procure some… I mean, it’s almost impossible to get venom from an acromantual while it’s alive…” Professor Slughorn seemed to be talking more to himself than the Doctor now. “…seems an awful waste not to collect it… might get a hundred Galleons a pint… To be frank, my salary is not large…”

“You are welcome to come if you’d like,” the Doctor said,

“Yes, of course,” said Professor Slughorn, his eyes now gleaming with enthusiasm. “I tell you what, John, I’ll meet you down there with a bottle of two… We’ll drink the poor beast’s – well – not health – but we’ll send it off in style, anyway, once it’s buried. And I’ll change into my tie, this one is a little exuberant for the occasion…”

He bustled back into the castle, and the Doctor made his way to Hagrid’s cabin. “Yeh came,” croaked Hagrid when he opened the door and saw the Doctor.

“Yeah, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Jack couldn’t, though.”

“Don’ – don’ matter… He’d’ve bin touched yeh’re here, though…” Hagrid gave a great sob. He had made himself a black armband out of what looked like a rag dipped in boot polish, and his eyes were puffy, red, and swollen.

A few minutes later, Professor Slughorn made his way over, “Hagrid,” he said, “So very sorry to hear of your loss.” The three of them stepped out into the black garden. The moon was glistening palely through the trees now, and its rays mingled with the light spilling from Hagrid’s window to illuminate Aragog’s body lying on the edge of a massive pit beside a ten-foot high mound of freshly dug earth. “Magnigicent,” said Professor Slughorn, approaching the spider’s head, where eight milky eyes stared blankly at the sky and two huge curved pincers shone, motionless, in the moonlight.

“It’s not ev’ryone appriciates how beau’iful they are,” said Hagrid to Professor Slughorn’s back, tears leaking from the corners of his crinkled eyes. “I didn’ know yeh were int’rested in creatures like Aragog, Horace.”

“Interested? My dear Hagrid, I revere them,” said Professor Slughorn, stepping back from the body. “Now… shall we proceed to the burial?” Hagrid nodded and moved forword. He heaved the gigantic spider into his arms and, with an enormous grunt, rolled it into the dark pit. It hit the bottom with a rather horrible, crunchy thud. Hagrid started to cry again.

“Of course, it’s difficult for you, who knew him best,” said Professor Slughorn, “Why don’t I say a few words?” He stepped up to the rim of the pit and said, in a slow, impressive voice, “Farewell, Aragog, king of arachnids, whose long and faithful friendship those who knew you won’t forget! Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun places of your forest home. May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained.”

“Tha’ was… tha’ was… beau’iful!” Howled Hagrid and he collapsed onto the compost heap, crying harder than ever.

“There, there,” said Professor Slughorn, waving his wand so that the huge pile of earth rose up and then fell, with a muffled sort of crash, onto the dead spider, forming a smooth mound. “Let’s get inside and have a drink. Get on his other side, John… That’s it… Up you come, Hagrid… Well done…”

They deposited Hagrid in a chair at the table. Professor Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles of wine he had brought. “I have had it _all_ tested for poison,” he assured Harry, pouring most of the first bottle into one of Hagrid’s bucket-seized mugs and handing it to Hagrid. “One for John…” said Professor Slughorn, deviding a second bottle between two mugs “…and one for me. Well” – he raised his mug high – “to Aragog.”

“Aragog,” The Doctor and Hagrid said together. Both Professor Slughorn and Hagrid drank deeply, though the Doctor chose not to drink any.

After about an hour of drinking and random toasts, Hagrid had fallen asleep, and the Doctor was talking to Professor Slughorn,

“So, would I know any of your family, John?” the potionsmaster asked,

“No,” The Doctor said, “I come from very far away.”

“Where? I still might know them, I’ve done my fair share of traveling my dear boy.”

“You wouldn’t know where it is.”

“Try me?”

“I come from Gallifrey.” Professor Slughorn hesitated,

“No, I don’t know that one.” The Doctor smiled sadly.

“Do you still visit?”

“I can’t, it’s all gone now.”

“And your family moved here?”

“I moved here.”

“What happened to your family?”

“They’re gone.” Professor Slughorn looked down,

“I’m sorry, that’s dreadful.”

“Professor, do you think you could help me with something?”

“Yes, m’boy, what do you need?”

“A memory, a specific one, and I think you know which one.” Professor Slughorn gaped at him, “Because  I just want to protect my new home. I couldn’t bare it if I lost this one as well.” Professor Slughorn cast his gaze down,

“I don’’t think –”

“We’ve all done things we regret.” The Doctor said, “I’ve done things that haunt me every day of my life, but as ashamed as we are, if we don’t confront it, we will never learn, and will make the same mistakes again.” Then, very slowly, Professor Slughorn put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand. He put his other hand inside his cloak and took out a small, empty bottle. Still looking into the Doctor’s eyes, he touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came away too, clinging to the wand tip. Longer and longer the memory streatched until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Professor Slughorn lowered it into the bottle where it coiled, then spread, swirling like gas. He corked the bottle with a trembling hand and then passed it aross the table to the Doctor. “Thank you very much, Professor.” The Doctor said,

“You’re a good boy,” said Professor Slughorn, tears trickling down his cheeks into his walrus mustache. “Just don’t think to badly of me once you’ve seen it…” And he too put his head on his arms, gave a deep sigh, and fell asleep.


	14. Horcruxes

The Doctor made his way to the Gryffindor common room. By the time he got up to the portrait hole, the Fat Lady was not in a helpful mood. “What sort o time do you call this?” The Doctor rolled his eyes,

“You’re not my mother.”

“I might as well, be. The password changed at midnight, so you’ll just have to sleep on the corridor, won’t you?” The Doctor sighed, pulling out his Sonic Screwdriver and unlocking the portrait. It swung open, much to the Fat Lady’s protests. The next morning, the Doctor handed the bottle of memory to Harry, who brought it right up to Professor Dumbledore.

A few hours later, the Doctor, Jack, Harry, Ron, and Hermione met up. “The memory didn’t really tell us anything more than you’ve already told us,” said Harry to the Doctor, “But Voldemort’s got six Horcruxes, two have already been destroyed, but four still remain. We know three of them are his snake, Nagini, the Slytherin locket, and the Hufflepuff cup…”

 

Two days later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jack, and the Doctor sat at breakfast together. The rest of the Gryffindors were long accustomed to Jack’s presence at the table. Suddenly, Professor McGonagall walked up to the Doctor, “Mr. Smith, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office.” The Doctor shrugged and waved to the others as he followed the professor to the gargoyle who, once Professor McGonagall had given him the password, jumped aside and let them up the staircase. He entered and looked at the headmaster as Professor McGonagall exited leaving them alone.

“Mr. Smith.” Professor Dumbledore said calmly, “It has come to my attention that you are not as you appear.” The Doctor grinned,

“You’re very observant, Professor.” the headmaster let out a short chuckle,

“I have been aware for a while Mr. Smith, but now more than ever do I need to know who and what you really are.”

“Why?”

“Mr. Smith, we have reason to believe you are from another world.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Smith, how long have you been on Earth?”

“Oh, I’m here off and on.”

“So how much do you know about the Wizarding Wars?”

“Er, Voldemort reached the height of his power, there was a rebellion, Harry Potter defeated Voldemort…” Professor Dumbledore nodded,

“And you know that now Voldemort is back.”

“Yes.”

“And Mr. Potter has informed me that you have extensive information on Horcruxes.”

“I have a vague knowledge of them.”

“Can you tell me what you know?”

“Well, I can tell you some, timelines and all that. Horcruxes are objects in which a Witch or Wizard has hidden a fragment of their soul to attain immortality. They can only be created by committing a murder and a supreme act of evil. It’s essentially the opposite of a person, where a person’s container can be destroyed without any damage to the soul, the fragment of soul contained inside the Horcrux is dependent on the container for its existence. If the container is destroyed, so too would be the fragment of soul within it. As long as at least one Horcrux exists, the creator’s soul will be bound the the world of the living, hence if the body is destroyed, the soul will remain as a lingering spirit instead of passing through the other side. The soul can possess others to regain physical form, which shortens the host’s lifespan drastically, it’s like a parasite sucking the life energy out.” The Doctor made a face.

“Mr. Smith –”

“Just call me the Doctor.” The Doctor said,

“Very well then, Doctor,” Professor Dumbledore smiled,

“Harry and I will be fetching one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, and I request your assistance.” The Doctor nodded.

The next evening, the Doctor and Harry reported to Professor Dumbledore’s office. “Are you two both sure you wish to come with me tonight?”

“Yes.” The Doctor and Harry said,

“Very well, then: Listen.” Professor Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height. “I take you with me on one condition: that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question.”

“Of course.” Harry said at once, the Doctor nodded, but made no verbal confirmation.

“Be sure to understand me. I mean that you must follow even such orders as ‘run,’ ‘hide,’ or ‘go back.’ Do I have your word?”

“Yes, of course.” Once again, the Doctor nodded,

“If I tell you to hide, you will do so?”

“Yes.”

“If I tell you to flee, you will obey?”

“Yes.”

“If I tell you to leave me and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?”

“I –” Harry began,

“Harry?” Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry,

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. Then, I wish for you two to go fetch Harry’s Invisibility Cloak and meet me in the entrance hall in five minutes’ time.”

Professor Dumbledore turned back to look out the fiery window; the sun was now a ruby red glare along the horizon. The Doctor and Harry walked quickly from the office and down the spiral staircase. Hermione and Ron were sitting together in the common room when they returned. “What does Dumbledore want?” Hermione said at once, the Doctor explained as Harry ran up to the dormitory to get his cloak.

“So he knows who you are, then?” Hermione asked the Doctor once he’d finished,

“Well, not properly, no. But he’s got the vague idea.”

“Come on, let’s go.” Harry said, and they hurried back through the portrait hole and toward the entrance hall.

Professor Dumbledore was waiting beside the oaken front doors. He turned as the Doctor and Harry entered.

“I would like you two to wear the cloak, please,” said Professor Dumbledore,

“I’ve got a perception filter.” The Doctor said,

“But I can still see you…” Professor Dumbledore said in confusion.

“Because you’re looking for me. If you weren’t I wouldn’t be noticeable.” Professor Dumbledore shrugged, trusting in the first-year’s alien technology.   
They set off at once down the stone steps, Professor Dumbledore’s traveling cloak barely stirring in the still summer air. They made their way down the drive in the gathering twilight. The air was full of smells of warm grass, lake water, and wood smoke from Hagrid’s cabin. “Professor?” Harry asked from under the cloak, “Will we be Apparating?”

“Yes,” said Professor Dumbledore, “You can Apparate now, I believe?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “But the Doctor can’t and I haven’t got a license.”

“No matter,” said Professor Dumbledore, “I can assist the both of you.”

They turned out of the gates into the twilit, deserted lane to Hogsmeade. Darkness descended fast as they walked, and by the time they reached the High Street, night was falling in earnest. Lights twinkled from windows over shops and as they neared the Three Broomsticks, they heard raucous shouting.

“– and stay out!” Shouted Madam Rosmerta, forcibly ejecting a grubby-looking wizard. “Oh, hello, Albus… You’re out late…”

“Good evening Rosmerta, good evening… forgive me, I’m off to the Hog’s Head… No offence, but I feel like a quieter atmosphere tonight…”

A minute later, they turned the corner into the side street where the Hog’s Head’s sign creaked a little, though there was no breeze. In contrast to the Three Broomsticks, the pub appeared to be completely empty.

“It will not be necessary for us to enter,” muttered Professor Dumbledore, glancing around. “As long as nobody sees us go… now place your hand upon my arm. The Doctor placed a hand on Professor Dumbledore’s arm, “On the count of three… One… two… three…”

At once, there was a horrible sensation, most akin to a vortex manipulator. Then, in an instant, they were standing in cool darkness, breathing in lungfuls of fresh, salty air.


	15. The Cave

The Doctor could smell salt air and hear rushing waves; a light breeze ruffled his hair as he looked out at moonlit sea and star-strewn sky. They were standing upon  a high outcrop of dark rock, water forming and churning below him. Behind them, a towering cliff stood behind them, a sheer drop, black and faceless. A few large chunks of rock, such as the one upon which himself, Harry, and Professor Dumbledore were standing, looked as though they had been broken away from the cliff face at some point in the past. It was a bleak, harsh view, the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or swamp of grass or sand. “This way.” said Professor Dumbledore, beckoning the Doctor and Harry to the very edge of the rock where a series of jagged niches made footholds leading down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff. It was a treacherous descent that the Doctor easily maneuvered, through Harry and Professor Dumbledore (slightly hampered by his withered hand), moved slowly. The lower rocks were slippery with seawater, and the Doctor picked up his wand,

“ _Lumos._ ” A thousand flecks of golden light sparkled upon the dark surface of the water a few feet below. The Doctor saw a fissure in the cliff into which dark water was swirling.

“You will not object to getting a little wet?” Professor Dumbledore asked, now suddenly behind him. The Doctor and Harry both shook their heads.

With the sudden agility of a much younger man, Professor Dumbledore slid from the boulder, landed in the sea, and began to swim with a perfect breaststroke, toward the dark slit in the rock face, is lit wand held in his teeth. The Doctor dove in, Harry jumping in after him.

The fissure soon opened into a dark tunnel that the Doctor could tell would be filled with water at high tide. The slimy walls were barely three feet apart and glimmered like wet tar in the passing wandlight. A little way in, the passageway carved to the left, and the Doctor saw it extended far into the cliff. They raised out of the water as steps led into a large cave. The Doctor stepped up them, water streaming from his soaking clothes, and emerged into the cold air. “Yes, this is the place,” Professor Dumbledore said,

“How can you tell?” Harry asked,

“The psychic energy, it’s everywhere…” The Doctor said, the overwhelming energy causing him to shiver.

“This is merely the antechamber, the entrance hall,” said Professor Dumbledore, “We need to penetrate the inner place… Now it is Lord Voldemort’s obstacles that stand in our way, rather than those nature made…” Professor Dumbledore approached the wall of the cave and caressed it with his blackened fingertips, murmuring to himself in Anglo-Saxon. Twice Professor Dumbledore walked right around the cave, touching as much of the rough rock as he could, occasionally pausing, running his fingers backward and forward over a particular spot, brimming with energy, until he finally stopped, his hand pressed flat against the wall. “Here,” he said. “We go on through here. The entrance is concealed.” Professor Dumbledore stepped back from the cave wall and pointed his wand at the rock. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack.

“You’ve d-done it!” said Harry through chattering teeth, but before the words had left his lips, the outline had gone, leaving the rock as bare and solid as ever. The Doctor spun around, flicking his wand and drying and warming Harry’s clothes.

“Thank you.” said Harry gratefully, the Doctor turned his attention back to Professor Dumbledore who had already turned his attention back to the solid cave wall. He did not try any more magic, but simply stood there, staring at it intently, as though something extremely interesting was written on it. The Doctor stepped up to it, just as Professor Dumbledore said quietly,

“Oh, surely not. So crude.”

“What is it, Professor?” Harry asked,

“I rather think,” said Professor Dumbledore, putting his uninjured hand inside his robes and drawing a short silver knife of the kind that would be used to chop potions ingredients, “that we are required to make payment to pass.

“Payment?” said Harry. “You’ve got to give the door something?”

“Yes,” said Professor Dumbledore. “Blood, if I am not much mistaken.”

“ _Blood?_ ” said Harry. The Doctor made a disgusted face,

“It’s a way to get the enemy to weaken themselves before they enter.”

“Yeah, but still, if you can avoid it…” said Harry,

“Sometimes, however, it is unavoidable,” said Professor Dumbledore, shaking back the sleeve of his robes and exposing the forearm of his injured hand,

“Professor!” The Doctor protested, snatching the knife that Professor Dumbledore raised out of the air. “I’ll do it.”

“No, your blood is worth more than mine.” said Professor Dumbledore, reaching to take the knife back, but the Doctor had already slid the knife across his hand, and dark red blood with an orange tinge slid out.

“I’ll heal faster.” He said, sliding his hand against the wall. The blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in the wall once more, and this time it did not fade away: the bloody rock within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total darkness.

“After me, I think,” said Professor Dumbledore, and he walked through the archway with the Doctor and Harry on his heels. An eerie sight met their eyes: They were standing on the edge of a great black lake, so vast that even the Doctor could barely make out the distant banks. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the middle of the lake; it was reflected in the completely still water below.

“Let us walk,” said Professor Dumbledore quietly. “Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me.” They set off around the edge of the lake, their footsteps made echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim of rock that surrounded the water. On and on they walked, but the view did not vary.

“Professor,” Harry asked after a while of walking, “Do you think the Horcrux is here?”

“Oh yes,” said Professor Dumbledore. “Yes, I’m sure it is. The question is, how do we get to it?”

“We couldn’t… we couldn’t just try a Summoning Charm?” Harry asked,

“No, there’ll be protective enchantments.” The Doctor said,

“Aha,” said Professor Dumbledore, stopping suddenly, the Doctor halted too, catching Harry as he walked into him, “Stand back against the wall, please; I think I have found the place.” Professor Dumbledore’s buckled shoes found the utmost edge of the rock rim, keeping his hand clenched in midair, he raised his wand with his other and tapped his fist with the point. Immediately, a thick coppery green chain appeared out of thin air, extending from the depths of the water into Professor Dumbledore’s clenched hand. Professor Dumbledore tapped the chain, which began to slide through his fist like a snake, coiling itself on the ground with a clinking sound that echoed noisily off the rocky walls, pulling something from the depths of the black water. A ghostly prow of a tiny boat broke the surface, glowing as green as the chain, and floated, with barely a ripple, toward the place on the bank where Harry and Professor Dumbledore stood.

“How did you know it was there?” Harry asked in astonishment,

“Magic always leaves traces,” said Professor Dumbledore, as the boat hit the bank with a gentle bump, “sometimes very distinctive traces. I taught Tom Riddle, I know his style.”

“Is… is this boat safe?” Harry asked,

“Oh yes, I think so. Voldemort needed to create a means to cross the lake without attracting the wrath of those creatures he had placed within it in case he ever wanted to visit or remove his Horcrux.”

“So the things in the water won’t do anything to us if we cross in Voldemort’s boat?”

“I think we must resign ourselves to the fact that they will, at some point, realize we are not Lord Voldemort. Thus far, however, we have done well. They have allowed us to raise the boat.”

“But why have they let us?” asked Harry,

“Voldemort would have been reasonably confident that none but a very great wizard would have been able to find the boat,” said Professor Dumbledore. “I think he would have been prepared to risk what was, to his mind, the most unlikely possibility that somebody else would find it, knowing that he had set other obstacles ahead that only he would be able to penetrate. We shall see whether he is right.” Harry looked down into the boat. It really was very small.

“It doesn’t look like it was built for three people. Will it hold all of us? Will we be too heavy together?” Professor Dumbledore chuckled,

“Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it.”

“But then –” Harry said,

“I do not think you two will count, as you are both underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old and an eleven-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.” The three of them stepped into the boat, Professor Dumbledore coiling the chain onto the floor. The boat began to move at once, there was no sound other than the silken rustle of the boat’s prow cleaving the water; it moved without their help, an invisible force pulling them onwards toward the light in the center. The Doctor looked down into the waters below and saw it, a hand. Harry saw it too.

“Professor!” He said, his voice echoing loudly over the silent water,

“Harry?”

“I think I saw a hand in the water – a human hand!”

“Yes, I am sure you did.” said Professor Dumbledore calmly, the Doctor stared into the water. He looked at the man beneath the sea, he was lying faceup, inches beneath the surface, his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around him like smoke. Inside him, the Doctor felt a hot rage,

“Nothing to worry about at the moment.” Professor Dumbledore said, noticing the Doctor’s face.

“At the moment?” Harry asked,

“Not while they are merely drifting peacefully below us,” said Professor Dumbledore, “There is nothing to be feared from a body, Harry, any more than there is anything to be feared from the darkness. Lord Voldemort, who of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once again, he reveals his own lack of wisdom. It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.”

“Or Vashta Nerada…” The Doctor added,

“Vashta Nerada?” Harry asked,

“Just don’t touch the water.” The Doctor said as the boat touched small island in the center of the lake. The island was no larger than Professor Dumbledore’s office, an expense of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of the greenish light. The light was coming from a stone basin which was set on top of a pedestal. Professor Dumbledore approached the basin, the Doctor and Harry followed. They looked down into it, it was full of an emerald liquid emitting a phosphorescent glow.

“What is it?” Harry asked,

“I am not sure,” said Professor Dumbledore. “Something more worrisome than blood and bodies, however.” The Doctor stared at the potion,

“The Drink of Despair.”

“What?” Harry and Professor Dumbledore turned to look at the Doctor,

“The Drink of Despair. It’s a potion. It cannot be penetrated by hand, vanished, scooped up, siphoned away… it can only be drained by drinking.”

“What does it do?” Harry asked,

“It induces fear, delirium, and extreme thirst. It causes the drinker to relive their worst memories.”

“Will it kill them?” Harry asked,

“No, it will only weaken them. Voldemort wouldn’t want them dead, he would want them alive long enough to understand how they made it past all his defenses and why.” Professor Dumbledore conjured a goblet with his wand,

“Yes, and you boys must make sure that I keep drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?”

“No.” The Doctor said at once, “No, I’ll do the drinking.”

“You remember,” said Professor Dumbledore, “the condition on which I brought you with me?”

“Yes, but that in no way means I will allow this to happen.”

“Sir, why can’t one of us drink the potion instead?”

“Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable,” said Professor Dumbledore,

“No you’re not.” The Doctor said, stepping up to the headmaster, “I am over ninehundred years old and have more knowledge than any human could ever obtain. I will drink it.”

“Ah, but you are much more valuable than I.”  
“No one is expendable here, and if anyone is going to be able to survive this best, even in a weakened state, it’ll be me.” With that, the Doctor scooped a gobletful of the emerald potion. Professor Dumbledore waved his wand and the goblet froze in midair.

“I am already dying.” The Doctor flicked his own letting the goblet settle back into his hand, he looked up,

“What do you mean?” Professor Dumbledore held out his blackened hand,

“I have been fatally cursed. I have a very short time to live.”

“This potion will not kill me.” Suddenly, Professor Dumbledore flicked his wand, sending the Doctor pinned against the cavern wall. With a flick of the Doctor’s own wand, he released himself and pushed the headmaster away from the basin.

“You promiesed you would listen to every order I gave.” Professor Dumbledore reminded him,

“Yes, well, I lied.” And with that, the Doctor downed the potion. It immediately took effect, burning his throat. A searing pain exploded within his body, he took deep breaths, plunging the goblet back into the basin, refilling it, and drank once more. The Doctor drank four gobletsful of the potion, then, halfway through the fifth gobletful, he staggered and fell forward against the basin. He gasped for breath, drinking another gobletful. He choked, and his knees buckled,

“Doctor, can you hear us?” The Doctor shut his eyes and held his head, but didn’t drop the goblet. Memories flooded in to his defensless mind.

“Please! No!” The Doctor shouted.

Harry stood beside Dumbledore, shocked, unsure what to do. The Doctor was screaming, holding his head as if in pain. Dumbledore was first to move, snatching the goblet from the Doctor’s hands, filling it up, and returning it to the Doctor, “He has already begun and all that me drinking it now would do would be to harm us both.” Dumbledore explained, and, with a face that looked a lot to Harry like shame, he topped the potion so that the Doctor swallowed another gobletful.

“Please stop. Please! Make it stop!” The Doctor screamed,

“It’s all right, Doctor, it’s all right.” Harry said, kneeling beside the whimpering boy as Dumbledore fetched the next gobletful, “Nothing’s happening to you, you’re safe, it isn’t real, I swear it isn’t real.”

“It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault!” The Doctor whimpered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.” Dumbledore made him drink another gobletful, then returned to the basin to fetch more as Harry continued to talk to the Doctor as he began to flail, “Please. Please! I was a good soldier! I did my duty! I had no choice! Please!” both Harry and Dumbledore froze at this, the Doctor had never mentioned being a soldier before…

“We have almost drained the basin.” Dumbledore said after a pause, returning once more to the Doctor, then back to the basin. The Doctor was shaking now, and not subtally either. His whole body was shaking intensely, he fell forward, screaming again.

It only took a few more goblets of potion until the last goblet was drained, “Stop! Please stop!” the Doctor screamed, “Please kill me! JUST KILL ME!” Then, with a great, rattling gasp, the Doctor seemed to fall unconscious for a moment. His eyelids fluttered, and he calmly and simply whispered,

“Water.”

“We have no water.” Dumbledore said,

“Yes we do…” Harry said slowly,

“No, we cannot touch the water.” Dumbledore reminded him, then turned to the Doctor, “Do you think you can stand?” The Doctor, helped partially by Harry, made his way to his feat, leaning on Harry.

The Doctor, Harry, and Professor Dumbledore made their way back to the boat. The group was silent as they rode back towards the shore. They reached the bank with a little bump, and Professor Dumbledore was first out, offering his assistance to the Doctor, who stubbornly turned it away, making his own way out, nearly causing him to come falling back to the ground, though he managed to hold his own. They made their way back around the lake, adrenaline the only thing keeping the Doctor on his feet (it was a good thing Time Lords could control it, if he’d been human, he couldn’t imagine how he’d be holding up).

They returned into the icy seawater they had swam over in. Professor Dumbledore hadn’t uttered a single word since they had left the island, a mix of anger, regret, and shame written across his face.


	16. The Lightning-Struck Tower

The Doctor, Harry, and Professor Dumbledore disapperated from the rocky cliff, finding themselves back in Hogsmeade. The moment they turned to look at the school, they saw a blazing green skull with a serpent tongue. “What’s that then?” The Doctor inquired,

“The Dark Mark.” Professor Dumbledore said, “It’s the mark of the Death Eaters.” He then held up his wand, “ _Accio Rosmerta’s Brooms!_ ” There was a loud bang as the front door of the Three Broomsticks burst open and two brooms came flying out, “I do hope she won’t miss them.” Professor Dumbledore said, mounting a broom. The Doctor and Harry mounted the other, gratefully surrendering the steering to Harry. “Harry, Doctor, put on the Invisibility Cloak.” Professor Dumbledore instructed. Harry pulled the cloak out of his pocket and threw it over himself and the Doctor as they kicked off the ground, rose up in the air, and sped toward the castle.

As they flew over the dark, twisting lane down which they had walked earlier, the Doctor heard, over the whistling of the night air in his ears, Professor Dumbledore muttering in Anglo-Saxon again, undoing some of the enchantments he had set around the permitors of the school, granting them entrance.

Professor Dumbledore had already crossed the crenellated ramparts and was dismounting; the Doctor and Harry landed next to him seconds later and looked around. The ramparts were deserted. The door to the spiral staircase that led back into the castle was closed. There was no sign of a struggle of a fight to the death, of a body as the Dark Mark implied. Harry began to pull the Invisibility Cloak off, but Professor Dumbledore stopped him, “Keep the cloak on.”

Suddenly, the door burst open and somebody erupted through it and shouted, “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” But at the same time, out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor noticed Professor Dumbledore flick his wand at himself and Harry, just before it went flying out of his hand. The Doctor’s body became instantly rigid and immobile, and he felt himself fall back against the tower wall. One glance to the side informed him that Harry was experiencing the exact same thing.

Standing against the ramparts, Professor Dumbledore showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, “Good evening, Draco.”

Draco Malfoy stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that he and Professor Dumbledore were alone. His eyes fell upon the second broom. “Who else is here?”

“A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?” The Doctor saw Draco’s pale eyes shift back to Professor Dumbledore in the greenish glare of the Dark Mark.

“No,” he said. “I’ve got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight.”

“Well, well,” said Professor Dumbledore, as though Draco was showing him an ambitious homework project. “Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?”

“Yeah,” said Draco, who was panting. “Right under your nose and you never realized!”

“Ingenious,” said Professor Dumbledore. “Yet…forgive me…where are they now? YOu seem unsupported.”

“They met some of your guards. They’re having a fight down below. They won’t be long… I came ahead. I – I’ve got a job to do.”

“Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” said Professor Dumbledore softly.

There was silence. The Doctor stood imprisoned within his own invisible, paralyzed body, staring at the two of them. Draco did nothing but stare at Professor Dumbledore who, incredibly, smiled. “Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.”

“How do you know?” said Draco at once. “You don’t know what I’m capable of, you don’t know what I’ve done!”

“Oh yes, I do.” said Professor Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts… So feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it.”

“It has been in it!” said Draco vehemently. “I’ve been working on it all year, and tonight –” Somewhere in the depths of the castle below, the Doctor heard a muffled yell. Draco stiffened and glanced over his shoulder.

“Somebody is putting up a good fight,” said Professor Dumbledore conversationally. “But you were saying…yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible…How did you do it?” But Draco said nothing: He was still listening to whatever was happening below and seemed almost as paralyzed as Harry and the Doctor were. “Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” suggested Professor Dumbledore. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too. And after all, you don’t really need help…I have no wand at the moment…I cannot defend myself.” Draco merely stared at him. “I see,” said Professor Dumbledore kindly, when Draco neither moved nor spoke. “You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I’m not afraid!” snarled Draco, though he still made no move to hurt Professor Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be scared!”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe…So tell me, while we wait for your friends…how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.” Draco looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout of to vomit. He gulped and took several deep breaths, glaring at Professor Dumbledore, his wand pointing directly at the latter’s heart. Then, as though he could not help himself, he said,

“I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.”

“Ahh,” Professor Dumbledore sighed, “That was clever…There is a pair, I take it?”

“In Borgin and Burkes,” said Draco, “and they make a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the cabinet was traveling between them, but he couldn’t make anyone hear him…In the end, he managed to Apparate out, even though he’d never passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realized what it meant – even Borgin didn’t know – I was the only one who realized there could be a way into Hogwarts through the cabinets if I fixed the broken one.”

“Very good,” murmured Professor Dumbledore. “So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you…A clever plan, very clever plan…and, as you say, right under my nose.”

“Yeah,” said Draco, who bizarrely seemed to draw courage and comfort from Dumbledore’s praise. “Yeah, it was!”

“But there were times,” Professor Dumbledore went on, “weren’t there, when you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet? And you restored to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me a cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands…poisoning mead there was only the slightest chance I might drink…”

“Yeah, well, you still didn’t realize who was behind that stuff, did you?” sneered Draco,

“As a matter of fact, I did.” said Professor Dumbledore, “I was sure it was you.”

“Why didn’t you stop me, then?” Draco demanded,

“I tried, Draco, Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders –”

“He hasn’t been doing _your_ orders, he promised my mother –”

“Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but –”

“He’s a double agent, you stupid old man, he isn’t working for you, you just think he is!”

“We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape –”

“Well, you’re losing your grip, then! Not that it matters when I’m about to kill you.”

“You do not have to do this, Draco. I can help you. Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight and hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban…When the time comes, we can protect him too…Come over to the right side, Draco…You are not a killer…” Draco stared at Professor Dumbledore,

“But I got this far, didn’t I?” he said slowly, “THey thought I’d die in the attempt, but I’m here…and you’re in my power…I’m the one with the wand…You’re at my mercy…”

“No, Draco,” said Professor Dumbledore quietly. “It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now.”

Suddenly, footsteps were thundering up the stairs, and a second later, Draco was buffeted out of the way as four people in black robes burst through the door onto the ramparts. It seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below. A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle.

“Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Professor Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too…Charming…” The woman gave an angry little titter.

“Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?” She jeered.

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Professor Dumbledore.

“Do it,” said the Death Eater standing nearest to the Doctor, a big, rangy man with matter gray hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater’s robes looked uncomfortably tight. The Doctor could smell a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat, and, unmistakably, blood coming from him. His filthy hands had long yellowish nails.

“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Professor Dumbledore.

“That’s right,” Fenrir rasped. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

“No, I cannot say that I am.” Fenrir grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely.

At that moment, there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a voice shouted, “ _They’ve blocked the stairs – Reducto! REDUCTO!_ ”

“Now, Draco, quickly!” said Amycus angrily, but Draco’s hands were shaking so badly that he could barely aim.

“I’ll do it,” snarled Fenrir, moving toward Professor Dumbledore with his hands outstretched, his teeth bared.

“I said no!” shouted Amycus; there was a flash of light and Fenrir was blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and staggered, looking furious.

“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us –” screeched Alecto, but at that precise moment, the door of the ramparts burst open once more and there stood Professor Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Professor Dumbledore standing calmly against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, including Fenrir and Draco.

“We’ve got a problem, Snape,” said Amycus, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Professor Dumbledore, “the boy doesn’t seem able –”

“Severus…” All eyes turned to Professor Dumbledore, he seemed to be pleading. Professor Snape gazed for a moment at the headmaster, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. “Severus…please…” Professor Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Professor Dumbledore.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” A jet of green light shot from the end of Professor Snape’s wand and hit Professor Dumbledore squarely in the chest. The Doctor stared at Professor Dumbledore, horror filling his hearts. For a split second, Professor Dumbledore seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backward, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.


	17. Flight of the Prince

The Doctor stared at the spot where Professor Dumbledore had just disappeared. “Out of here, quickly,” said Professor Snape. He seized Draco by the scruff of the neck and forced him through the door ahead of the rest; Fenrir, Alecto, and Amycus followed, the latter both panting excitedly. As they vanished through the door, the Doctor realized he could move again. As the spell released him, his legs shook beneath him, but with another controlled shot of adrenaline, he spun towards Harry, who looked horrified and traumatized.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Harry snarled, but the Doctor grabbed him and held him against the wall,

“We are not killing anyone. No one else will die tonight.” Harry stared at him, frozen for a second, then tore away, sprinting down the staircase, the Doctor on his tail. As they got down the stairs, they saw Ginny’s red hair, flying like flames in front of them. She was locked in combat with Amycus, who was throwing hex after hex at her while she dodged them: Amycus was giggling, enjoying the sport: “ _Crucio_ – _Crucio_ – you can’t dance forever, pretty –”

“ _Stupify_!” The Doctor reacted before Harry could, stunning Amycus.

“Doctor! Harry! Where did you come from?” Her shout grabbed the attention of Jack, who had just stunned his opponent,

“Doc! Fat lot of use you’ve been! Where were you?” But Harry had already taken off after Professor Snape,

“Come on!” The Doctor shouted, sprinting after Harry, Jack on his heels.

The Doctor and Jack tore after Harry, skidding around corners and down halls. They flew across the entrance hall and out into the dark ground: They could make out three figures racing across the lawn, heading for the gates beyond which they could Disapparate – by the looks of them, the a large blond Death Eater and, some way ahead of them, Professor Snape and Draco. There was a flash of light in the distance that momentarily silhouetted their quarry. There was another flash, shouts, retaliatory jets of light, and the Doctor understood what was going on: Hagrid had emerged from his cabin and was trying to stop the Death Eaters escaping.

The Doctor managed to tackle Harry just as he shouted, “ _Sectumsempra!_ ” Professor Snape merely flicked his wand and the curse was repelled. The professor’s face was full of fiery rage.

“No, Potter!” Screamed Professor Snape. There was a loud BANG and both Harry and the Doctor went soaring backward, hitting the ground hard. The Doctor could hear Hagrid yelling and his dog, Fang, howling as Professor Snape closed in and looked down on Harry where he lay. Professor Snape’s pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred. “You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them – I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you’d turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don’t think so… _no_!” The Doctor stood up, unarmed and defenceless.

“Why did you kill him?” Professor Snape’s face paled slightly, “I’ve seen a lot of murder in my life, enough you didn’t kill him out of cold blood.” The professor looked confused, staring at the Doctor, “Run. Run away. Don’t let anyone else die tonight. Go.” The man hesitated, took one last look at the Doctor, then sprinted towards Draco, grabbing him by the top of his shirt collar, dragging him outside the protection field, and Disapparating. Without missing a beat, the Doctor then sprinted towards Hagrid’s burning cabin. “Hagrid! HAGRID!” Hagrid burst from the flames carrying Fang on his back.

“Yeh alrigh’, John?”

“Yeah, what about you?” the Doctor responded,

“‘Course I am… take more’n that ter finish me.” Hagrid said, though the Doctor noticed blood trickling down Hagrid’s cheek from a deep cut under one eye, which was swelling rapidly. The Doctor turned to the cabin,

“ _Aguamenti!_ ” A jet of water flew out of his wand, Jack and Harry quickly joining in to help with their wands as well. Together, they poured water on the house until the last of the flame was extinguished.

“‘S not too bad,” said Hagrid hopefully, looking at the smoking wreck. “Nothin’ Dumbledore won’ be able to put righ’…” The Doctor’s looked at the ground,

“Hagrid, Dumbledore’s dead.”

“Wha’?” Hagrid looked at the Doctor, his eyes begging for it to be a lie, “Wha’s made yeh say tha’?”

“We saw it… I’m so sorry…” Hagrid shook his head; his expression disbelieving.

“I suppose we ought ter get yeh back up ter the school. Come on…”

The Doctor, Harry, Jack, and Hagrid made their way back up to the castle. Many of its windows were lit now. The oak front doors stood open ahead of them, light flooding out onto the drive and the lawn. Slowly, uncertainty, dressing-gowned people were creeping down the steps, looking around nervously for some sign of the Death Eaters who had fled into the night. The Doctor’s eyes, however, were fixed upon the ground at the foot of the tallest tower. He could barely see the black, huddled mass lying in the grass there.

“What’re they all lookin’ at?” said Hagrid, as he, Harry, Jack, and the Doctor approached the castle front, Fang keeping as close as he could to their ankles. “Wha’s tha’, lyin’ on the grass?” Hagrid added sharply, heading now toward the foot of the Astronomy Tower, where a small crowd was congregating. “See it, John? Righ’ at the foot o’ the tower? Under where the Mark…Blimey…yeh don’ think someone got thrown –?” Hagrid fell silent, the thought apparently too horrible to express aloud. The Doctor, Harry, and Jack walked alongside him, moving dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the very front, where the dumbstruck students and teachers had left a gap.

The Doctor heard Hagrid’s moan of pain and shock. Professor Dumbledore’s eyes were closed, his half-moon spectacles still upon his crooked nose. The locket they had managed to steal just hours before had fallen out of Professor Dumbledore’s pocket. It had opened, perhaps due to the force with which it hit the ground. Harry picked it up, and pulled away, the Doctor and Jack following behind.

They pulled away from the crowd, the Doctor grabbing the locket and turning it over in his hands, “There’s no psychic energy link…” He said, opening it up, and pulling out the piece of parchment wedged inside and read:

 

_To the Dark Lord_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this_

_But I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret._

_I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can._

_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,_

_You will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B_

 

The Doctor stared at the note, then looked at Harry. Tears welled up in his eyes and behind them, Fang began to howl.


	18. The White Tomb

“Doctor?” Jack approached the Doctor who was sitting on the castle steps, “Doctor, are you alright?” The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment,

“I’m fine, why do you ask?” Jack rolled his eyes, but accepted that the Doctor was not going to talk about it.

“Everyone’s going to the hospital wing on McGonagall’s orders.” The Doctor stood up,

“I’m going back to the dormitory.” And with that, he walked away.

The Doctor didn’t end up going directly to the dorm, but walked about the grounds, trying to clear his head. Eventually, he retired to the common room. It was silent, solemn, yet full of students. The Doctor stumbled to his bed and immediately unconscious.

All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Some students were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of days. One afternoon, Harry found the Doctor in the TARDIS. The Doctor still couldn’t fly her, but he still spent lots of time there. “How are you holding up?” The Doctor asked. Harry looked at the floor,

“Doctor…What did you mean in the cave when you said you were a good soldier?” The Doctor froze,

“I – I fought in a war. But it doesn’t matter now. We lost.” Harry gave him a questioning look, than inquired,

“What happened?”

“My people were fighting this species called the Daleks. I fought on the front lines, but it was going too far. It was going to destroy the rest of the universe and I had to stop it. So I did. The only way I could.”

“What did you do?” Harry asked,

“I killed them. My people, the Daleks, my friends, my family, everyone.” Harry stared at him,

“I’m sorry…” The Doctor smiled sadly,

“Not your fault.” Harry nodded,

“Is that what you saw when you drank the potion?”

“Yes… I suppose it was.” The Doctor said, trying to push the subject away,

“Does losing people ever get easier?” Harry asked, the Doctor hesitated,

“No. It doesn’t, it’s been a few hundred years since and it’s still hard. But you mourn and learn to cope and move on.”

At breakfast the next morning, the Doctor had to nudge Harry who was lost in thought as Professor McGonagall rose from her seat and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once. “It is nearly time,” she said. “Please follow your Heads of Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me.”

They filed out from behind their benches in near silence. The Doctor glimpsed Professor Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent, long, emerald green robes embroidered with silver. He had never seen Professor Sprout looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when they reached the entrance hall, they found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an old black suit and tie reeking of mothballs.

They were heading, as the Doctor saw when she stepped out onto the stone steps from the front doors, toward the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows.. An aisle ran down the center of them: There was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it.

An assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs; shabby and smart, old and young. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially on the gleaming air. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the Doctor filed into seats at the end of the row beside the lake. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for them, the Doctor saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna.

Suddenly, there was music. The beautiful mermish song of mourning. It rang through the crisp air, and the Merpeople could be seen from just below the surface of the water, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them. Jack nudged the Doctor and he looked around.

Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what the Doctor knew to be Professor Dumbledore’s body. The Doctor felt a sharp pain rise in his throat, he didn’t usually stay around for this part.

They could not see clearly what was happening at the front. Hagrid seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now he retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Professor Dumbledore’s body. He said some generic words about “Nobility of spirit”, “Intellectual contribution”, and “greatness of heart”.  

There was a soft splashing noise to his left and the Doctor saw that the Merpeople had broken the surface to listen too. There was a movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects too. They did not move into the open but Harry saw them standing quite still, half hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging at their sides.

Finally, the man in black had stopped speaking and returned to his seat. Then, several people screamed. Bright white flames had erupted around Professor Dumbledore’s body and the table upon which it lay: Higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiraled into the air into the shape of a Phoenix, and the next second, the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb encasing Professor Dumbledore’s body and the table on which he had rested.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, falling far short of the crowd: the centaur’s tribute. They turned tail and disappeared back into the cool trees. Likewise, the Merpeople sank slowly back into the green water and were lost from view.

“I can’t bare the idea that we might never come back.” Hermione said softly as herself, Harry, Ron, Jack, and the Doctor made their way back to the castle, “How can Hogwarts close?”

“Maybe it won’t,” said Ron. “We’re not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere’s the same now. I’d even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d’you reckon, Harry?”

“I’m not coming back even if it does reopen,” said Harry. Ron gaped at him, but Hermione said sadly,

“I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?”

“I’m going back to the Dursleys’ once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to,” said Harry. “But it’ll be a short visit, and then I’ll be gone for good.”

“But where will you go if you don’t come back to school?”

“I thought I might go back to Godric’s Hollow,” Harry muttered, “For me, it started there, all of it. I’ve just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit my parents’ graves, I’d like that.”

“And then what?” said Ron.

“Then I’ve got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven’t I?” said Harry, his eyes upon Professor Dumbledore’s tomb reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. “That’s what he wanted me to do, that’s why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right – and I’m sure he was – there are still four of them out there. I’ve got to find them and destroy them, and then I’ve got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort’s soul, the bit that’s still in his body, and I’m the one who’s going to kill him. And if I meet Severus Snape along the way,” he added, “so much the better for me, so much the worse for him.”

The Doctor suddenly felt something click within his genes, he spun around to Jack, “Jack, we need to leave.”

“Now?”

“Now.” They ran to the TARDIS, Harry, Ron, and Hermione right behind. They made it to the TARDIS, and the Doctor turned around,

“I guess this is goodbye.”

“So you’re not going to stay?” Harry asked,

“We can’t, too many fixed points.”

“But we will see you again, won’t we?” Hermione asked, the Doctor smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes,

“If I’m lucky.” And with that, the TARDIS door shut and the Doctor felt himself shooting up into the air.


End file.
